Make This Go on Forever
by jinxcharm
Summary: "Would you die for him Agent Romanoff?" I looked away. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but mostly I felt his gaze. His gaze was the only one that mattered. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't. It would only seal our fates faster. "Yes," I said. Clint and Natasha have always had a complicated relationship. Will things finally get to complicated for the assassins too handle?
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Hey guys, so this is only my second fanfiction ever and my first Avengers one at that. So please be kind, feel free to read and review. This fanfiction begins Pre-Avengers. It will switch between different points of view along the way. This chapter is all Clint though. :)

I do not own the Avengers. Just saying...

Chapter One: The Beginning

Clint Barton

Barcelona, Spain was always hot this time of year. The thought crossed my mind as I sat at an outside table of a Spanish café, a beige umbrella sticking up, shielding me from the scorching sun. I had my dark black sunglasses on and a simple dress of jeans and a button-up collared shirt, sipping on my drink, waiting for her arrival. The point was for me to look like the millions of other American tourists wondering around the streets, but I highly doubted any of the other American tourists were armed. My bow and arrows would have been too conspicuous, too hard to hide, so I had to settle for a pair of guns. I felt out of my element with the guns. I wasn't a bad shot by any means; I was just better with a bow.

I looked down at my watch, growing leery. It was already 10:30 in the morning. The mission details I'd been briefed on said that she always visited this café at 10:15 like clockwork while she stayed in Barcelona. When I'd first read that bit of information I was confused. You would think that a well-known Russian spy and assassin would know better than to stick to a routine schedule every time she was in town. It made her easier to track. But I had no doubt that the infamous Black Widow wasn't intimidated in the slightest by the thought of someone tracking her. She was the best at what she did and could handle herself, or so I'd heard. The only problem with that was I was the one who was tracking her and I was the best at what I did too. So if my mission was to take her down, I would without hesitation. It didn't matter how good she was: I was better.

I was about to give up for the day when I saw her. I'd never met Natasha Romanoff, and I'd only seen a few blurry pictures of her with the mission details, but it was obvious that those pictures – or any picture really – would never do her justice. She was drop dead gorgeous with fiery red hair that curled in long locks around her face and vibrant green eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Her skin was pale, and her features somehow retained their delicateness even though they'd been trained and forced to remain emotionless. And she didn't walk, she glided. She was graceful, precise, beautiful. It was one of the biggest reasons she was deadly: everything about her screamed seduction. I looked towards a group of pigeons near my table, not flinching a muscle as she walked by. It might not have appeared that I was looking at her, but she was in my peripheral vision the entire time. As soon as I knew she was inside the shop, I put a couple of extra Euros down on the table, and walked across the street towards a random shop.

I stayed close to the front, pretending to look through the various items, while skillfully keeping an undetectable trained eye on the café where the Black Widow exited, a drink in hand. She took a seat at the table right next to the one I had occupied moments earlier. She glanced around casually, no doubt checking to make sure no one was tailing her. She took her time, sipping on her drink slowly, calmly as if she was just another normal human being instead of one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted criminals. I didn't want to spend too much time in one shop, so I left the one I was in without buying anything and went to the one right next door. I browsed while still watching her. When she finally made a move to leave, I purchased a random, overtly expensive wallet before ducking out of the store a safe distance behind her.

She walked aimlessly, it seemed. Every now and then I ducked down a back street or stopped in a shop or even feigned cluelessness about the city by asking directions. She doesn't seem to notice me at all. What kind of assassin is she? I couldn't help but think it. Then I noticed two guys dressed in black appear out of nowhere. They were quiet like her, unabashedly following her. She sensed it; I could see it in her movements. She easily took a turn onto a deserted ally, covered by shadows of towering buildings and stacks of empty forgotten boxes. The two mystery guys turned down it too, and I knew trouble had found the Black Widow.

I kept walking though, taking the next street over, knowing the city well enough to know I could reach the ally from the other end. I didn't make myself known though, preferring to keep a safe distance and watch what was going to unfold. I could barely hear what the three were discussing, so I inched closer, taking shelter behind a crowd of boxes, making sure to be extra stealthy. I drew one of the guns I had on my and readied it in case I needed to use it. "Well, well, well," one of them hissed, "if it isn't the famous Black Widow, all alone in Spain."

"Glad to know my reputation precedes me," she said, a hint of glee mixing in with her otherwise calm voice. "Let me guess," she paused momentarily. "Marius sent you." Marius, that name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"He knows you're the one who killed Sven." The second one said in a low, cold voice. Sven, Marius, now I knew where I'd heard the name. Marius Belov was a member of one of Spain's biggest crime families. They had people literally all over the world, including America. Sven, Marius's brother, had headed the 'branch' in New York, that is until a few years ago when he was mysteriously murdered at a fancy party the mobster had thrown for his wife, Sophie, in honor of her birthday. I'd been there that night. I was on the team sent to take him down. We were just about to make our move when the news of Sven's death hit the party, causing all hell to break loose. Chaos had gained free reign. I'd even saved a young girl there, a friend of Sven's daughter Beatrice. She'd been terrified and was being threatened by enforcers for the Beatrice's location. I'd felt terrible for the girl: she had no clue where Beatrice had run off too. Had the elusive Black Widow murdered one of New York's most feared mob bosses without S.H.I.E.L.D. having any idea? Was that even possible, was she that good?

From my position by the boxes, I could see the back of the Black Widow's head and the shadowy figures of Marius Belov's men. The Black Widow laughed softly, her laughter like gentle bells ringing, melodic and enticing. "Is that your way of saying you did it?" The first one demanded.

"Oh I definitely did it, but that was like five years ago. Marius is just now catching up with me? And here I was thinking I'd murdered the brother of the most fearsome mob boss in Spain." She said in mock confusion.

"Why I oughta – " The first one drew his gun, but the Black Widow was faster. She grabbed his wrist and threw him to the ground. His gun had been forced from his hand and skidded across the ground until it was near my stack of boxes. The other pulled his gun and shot at Natasha, but she somehow dodged it, the sounds of the bullet quieted by the silencer. She was fast and strong for such a little thing. I could hardly believe my eyes when she flipped herself in the air and caught her legs around the second man, twisting him to the ground while still propelling herself to her feet. The fight had moved further into the shadows and I could only make out basic body movements: a hit there, a kick there. But eventually, the grunting of fighting had ceased. I made my move, holding my gun in front of me, moving out from my hiding spot.

"Natasha Romanoff, hands in the air." I moved closer to the shadows, sensing no movement once so ever. I got closer and my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The bodies of two dead men lay in the center of the dark street and the Black Widow was nowhere to be found. Wow, I thought, her reputation really does precede her. I flipped my comm link on. It was technically supposed to be on the whole time, but I usually didn't need it. I only reported in when the mission was complete, or in this case, when something went wrong. "Coulsen, I lost her."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

I spent the rest of the day trying to find her, but it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I sighed as I let the realization sink in that Natasha Romanoff could be anywhere by now. Hell, she could have flown out of Spain now. It would make sense. Marius Belov wasn't the type to accept defeat, and the Black Widow had beaten him twice now. Either way, the sun was fading fast. There wasn't anything I could do at that moment other than go home and rest up and try locating her tomorrow.

I took a bus back to the hotel he was staying at. It was a decent hotel really. I'd definitely stayed in worse ones. Besides, the only things that really mattered were running water and a comfortable enough bed. I went straight to his room, ignoring the staff that asked me if I'd had a good day viewing the city. The room was bleak with faded looking furniture and chipped paint, but it had both the necessities I desired, so it was perfect. Besides, I needed a somewhat secluded hotel. I wasn't dealing with just anyone. I was dealing with the Black Widow, who was as lethal as she was beautiful.

The first thing I did was pour myself a drink from the alcohol I'd stored away in my bags. S.H.I.E.L.D. really didn't condone drinking while on the job, but my handler Phil Coulsen wasn't here to warn against it. So what Phil didn't know wouldn't hurt him. I took a long swig of the amber liquid, feeling it burn my throat slightly as it went down, before glancing up to look in the giant silver framed mirror. I didn't bother turning the lights on because after I finished this drink, I was turning in for the night. The room was still. I took another swig, setting down the now empty glass. I walked towards where my duffle bag still sat next to the door, packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt when I got an eerie feeling. Something was off. I reached for my gun when the feeling of dizziness set in. I looked around in the darkness, straining to find someone, anyone. Then someone flipped the switch and a lamp from the bed clicked on, lighting a small section of the room. I stumbled towards them.

"Hello Agent Barton," the figure said simply. The familiar voice wove through my ears. It was still as melodic as it was earlier in the night. "Or should I call you Hawkeye?" She asked, standing from the chair next to the bed.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, pointing the gun at her, even though I was too far gun to fire it and hit her. I was feeling lightheaded along with the dizziness. The room was spinning. I could barely keep focused on just her. It was taking up the majority of my energy.

"Does it really matter?" She asked lightly, walking to the light switch near the door. She flipped the switch, dimly lighting the entire room. I reached out and grabbed the bed for support.

"What did you put in my drink?" I finally got around to asking, feeling the effects of whatever she'd put in it. She walked towards me as the gun fell from my shaky hands, toppling to the floor. She easily pushed me to a sitting position on the bed.

"Nothing dangerous, don't worry, you'll live to see another day," she whispered. "I've heard a lot about you Agent Barton."

"I could say the same for you." I said as my vision became to become shaky. This actually garnered a small laugh.

"I'm a little disappointed though," she said as she let her eyes glance over me. She never did elaborate on that answer. My vision started to blur, but my other senses were still intact, and I felt her thumb graze over my lips as she leaned in closer to me. "If you want to catch me, you're gonna have to do better than that." Her words were the last thing I was aware of before the drugs finally pulled me into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2: The Widow's Invitation

Hey guys, thanks for the follows and favorites. I really appreciate it. Thanks for the review! :) Here's Chapter 2. We are still in Barcelona currently. I wanted to spend a few chapters going into my version of how the two met because a lot of the fanfictions I've read have glossed over it. I hope you guys enjoy it. Feel free to leave me a comment and tell me what you think.

Chapter Two: The Widow's Invitation

- Natasha Romanoff

"If you want to catch me, you're gonna have to do better than that," I whispered as the drugs I'd put in his drink finally knocked him out. I gently pushed him back into a lying position, running my fingers slowly through his sandy brown hair before letting him go. I just stared at him for a minute, taking in the agent S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent to kill me. He was slightly older than me, with skin tired and rough from years in the field. I ran my thumb along his cheek gently, not able to shake the feeling that he'd had a hard life before this moment. I sighed and stood at the foot of the bed, drawing my gun and readying it for the shot. This will teach S.H.I.E.L.D. to come after me, I thought, determined to make my point with a red signature. Everything was ready. All I had to do was pull the trigger.

I became a little shaken when I didn't. After all, he was an adversary, a threat to my well-being, the agent sent to murder me in the name of Nick Fury and his other agents. He was dangerous. My reputation may have preceded me, but his did the same thing. I'd heard many stories about the 'amazing' Hawkeye, the world's greatest marksman. He was lethal with a bow and arrows, so I should've been scared, scared enough to pull the trigger. But I wasn't. There was something about him that didn't make me afraid, like I knew he wouldn't hurt me, which was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever thought considering the next time he saw me, he'd probably shoot me without a second thought. Either way I lowered my weapon.

What was I doing? I rubbed my face, weariness wearing on me. I was jeopardizing my life, my entire career for what? A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who may have had a difficult past? Lots of people had difficult pasts, including many of the people I'd killed over the years. What made Agent Barton any different? Because there was a possibility that he could know the same lostness as me. No one could be as lost as me. I don't care how much it seemed apparent in his eyes when I watched him watch me. And yet, a small part of me still believed.

I walked to the door, stopping just short of leaving, thinking. An idea formed and a wide smile appeared on my face as the details planned themselves out. I walked back, determined to leave my signature in red. After I finished, I walked to the door again, taking one last look at my work. I allowed a small laugh to leave my lips at the thought of its being received, and with that, I left Barton's hotel, walking along in the still warm Spanish air.

As I walked along the side streets, I couldn't forget his eyes or the way he looked at me before he'd fallen unconscious. They seemed warm and inviting, and they made me nervous. I stopped suddenly, alarmed at my nervousness. That was a problem. I exhaled sharply and forced all thoughts of Clint Barton out of my head as I disappeared into the darkness of night. I had other things to do.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

The first thing I thought as I became conscious was that I was alive. How was that possible? I was sure that the Widow would kill me at the first chance she got. She drugged me for Christ's sake. I couldn't imagine a better opportunity for killing someone! My head hurt, sharp pains running all through my body from there. I slowly began to blink my eyes open, surprised that I was still in my hotel room. I was propped up in the bed, leaning against the pillows. I thought for sure she would have at least kidnapped me. I looked around and caught site of the gray mirror I'd peered through earlier and couldn't help but give a lazy grin. She'd written on the mirror in red lipstick: "Step up your game Agent Barton. It's time to play." Next, an address was written in her beautiful cursive writing, along with a time. She was letting me know where she was going to be tonight. It was a gutsy move on the Widow's part, one that showed exactly how unafraid and courageous she was. It almost impressed me. Hell, it really did impress me, but I wasn't really supposed to be impressed by psychotic Russian assassins whose jobs had led to the deaths of tons of innocent bystanders.

I turned on my comm link and contacted Coulsen. "Yeah Phil, I got a hit on the Widow's location for tonight."

"Really where?" Phil asked incredulously. I gave him the details, but I was met only by silence. It was Phil's unmistakable mark of suspicion. "Where did you get this information Barton?"

"I got it from the most reliable source: the Black Widow herself." Phil's silence filled the phone again. I rolled my eyes.

"Clint," he started, "how do you know she's not setting you up for a trap?"

"If she was setting me up for a trap, it'd be more elaborate. There would be false identities and intricate stories. A blunt trap like this isn't her style." I said.

"You've been following her for a couple of days and you already know her style? I don't think so Clint. The Black Widow has had years of intense Soviet training. She'll use whatever methods to get the job done. I don't know about this." I could hear Phil shaking his head at me from the comfy black chair in his office.

"Look Phil, you gotta trust me on this one. She'll be there. This is the real thing, I can feel it." I had never been surer of anything in my life. I was absolutely positive that the Black Widow wasn't trying to draw me out and trap me. She wanted me to step up my game. She wanted me to prove to her that I could live up to my reputation, especially since after last night, it was apparent she lived up to hers.

Phil sighed in defeat. I'd recognize that sound anywhere. "Fine Barton, what do you need from me?"

"Can you see what kind of information you can dig up about that address, you know what it is and stuff? And could you try and find out what's going down there tonight? If it's a party, I'll need to look the part."

"Yeah, hang tight Barton. I'll see what I can do." Phil disconnected and I laid back on the bed thinking about last night.

She'd had me. I had been stupid enough to assume she wouldn't pull a stunt like that. I assumed that I was the one with the upper-hand, the one with the file on my target, but Russian spies apparently had files too. They had a file on me, where I was staying, what room I was in. She'd snuck in here and went through my things to find the alcohol I kept. I didn't even think to check for drugs in my drink! She had every right to kill me after a rookie mistake like that. So why didn't she?

The Black Widow was known for her ruthlessness. She was a cold, calculated killer, the best assassin Russia had to offer. She had one hell of a skill set. She was stealthy and quiet, not to mention how amazing her actual fighting skills were. Her acrobatic moves were enough to unnerve anyone who was trying to take her down, and in the history he'd read on her, she'd never turned down an opportunity to take down a threat. She seemed to be a believer in the mindset 'kill or be killed.' And yet, here I was…alive. It didn't make sense. It was vastly out of character for her. I promptly decided that the only way to find out why she didn't take the chance and kill me while I was passed out was to go to the address at the specified time and ask her. Bluntness might not have been her style, but it was mine.

It wasn't long before Phil contacted me again. He told me the address she'd left for me was for a swanky, up-scale hotel on the other side of town and that tonight a party was being hosted in one of the ballrooms. No telling what the Black Widow was planning. "One more thing Barton," Phil said to me after filling me in. "It's a restricted guest list. I'm not sure how she expects you to get in there. Usually, I'd try to bribe your way in, but because of the short notice, I don't think it'd do any good." I nodded, taking in the information.

"Thanks Phil, I'll figure it out."

"Barton, be careful out there. That woman's lethal. And if you get your sorry ass killed in Spain, I'm going to have to fly out there to identify the body. Don't drag me to Spain to identify your body."

"Hey at least if it comes to that, you'll get a free trip to Spain." I quipped. Phil didn't laugh, but I could sense that he was smiling on the other end. To a lot of agents Phil was just a handler. But me and Phil, we were friends. I knew that when push came to shove, Phil had my back and would do anything to help me.

"Really Clint, be careful." He said again.

"I will, don't worry. I can handle her." I said, but after ending the transmission, I wasn't so sure that I could. The Black Widow was calling the shots. The only thing I had to go on was an address of a hotel and a time of a party, a party that I wasn't sure I could even get in to. I exhaled heavily and stood up to begin pacing around the room. I finally threw my hands up in the air and decided I'd figure out how to get in later. Right now, I had a party to get ready for.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

"Wow, senorita, if looks could kill…." One of the hotel employees said to me as I stared at myself in the mirror. I was in the process of getting ready for the party and had tried on my dress for good measure. I'd chosen a floor length black gown with a beaded top that hugged my curves in all the right places. I glanced up at the hotel employee who promptly hurried out of the room to do his work. I chuckled.

"If looks could kill, you'd already be dead," I mumbled to myself. I turned around and looked at myself from all angels. I smiled, feeling content with my dress of choice. A lot of women would feel offended about having to use their bodies for jobs, but not me. I worked with what I had, and my body was key in seducing many of my past targets, whatever got the job done. Besides it's not like I actually slept with them. I'd draw them in, get them alone, make them believe it was going to happen, and then when they let their guards fully down, I'd pull the rug out from under them, killing them when they least expected it.

I turned and listened as my heels clicked lightly against the tiled floor of my hotel room as I made my way to the bathroom to fix my hair. It was dark red and fell to just below my shoulders. I kept it simple, curling it into classic ringlets and sticking with simplistic makeup. I strapped a garter holding a gun onto my leg for the finishing touch. With that, my party look was complete. I smiled and looked at the clock. I was staying in the same hotel that was hosting the party, per orders of my current employer. The party was due to start in ten minutes, so I grabbed my black clutch and walked downstairs towards the ballroom.

Everyone looked at me when I walked. They always did. I'd grown accustomed to it long ago and now barely noticed it. I strutted to the ballroom where a bouncer was waiting at the door, a list of names in hand. "Name please," he said, looking up at me. His mouth fell open just slightly as his eyes took in the sight of me.

"Natalie Rushman," I said sweetly. When the bouncer didn't respond, I cleared my throat, drawing his eyes back to my face. "My name is Natalie Rushman. I should be on the list." He glanced down at the list.

"Yep, Miss Natalie Rushman, right there," he pointed to her name on the typed list. "You can go on in. I'm sure Mr. James is expecting you." I could still feel his eyes on me as I entered into the party. I grinned and joined the already large crowd in the ballroom. Now all I had to do was wait.


	3. Chapter 3: The Proposition

I'm so excited that so many people are reading my story so soon. I would've posted earlier, but due to weather, my internet was down. But here's chapter three. I'm sure all the Clintasha fans will love the end of this chapter. I'll try to post again soon! Feel free to review and let me know what you think. It always makes me excited when people choose to do so. Once again: I don't own the Avengers.

Chapter Three: The Proposition

Clint Barton

I straightened my black jacket as I walked into the hotel. Glancing down at my watch, I grimaced. The party had already started. I was late as always. I could see the bouncer across the room, guarding the ballroom from unwanted guests. I shook my head; I still hadn't figured a way out inside. I tried to put myself in the Black Widow's shoes, tried to get inside her mind. How would she expect me to get in?

I suddenly felt very conspicuous standing in the middle of a fancy hotel dressed up like I was. I walked towards the bouncer, figuring I'd go for the obvious option. The Black Widow didn't seem to be using any of her elaborate schemes to get me here, so she might not expect me to use one of mine to get inside. I put on my calm and collected face, well aware that if you look like you know what you're doing, no one's going to question you otherwise. "Name," the bouncer asked, not even looking up at me. I swallowed. Here goes nothing.

"Clint Barton," I said smoothly. From the outside, no one could tell that I was nervous. I came off as confident and self-assured, like I belonged inside with the other party guests. But secretly, I was panicking. What if it didn't work? The bouncer looked through page and page of names. It was then that I guessed wrong. The Black Widow had other plans in store for me. Great. But then the bouncer pointed at a name.

"Mr. Barton, right there, Miss Rushman's plus one," he said simply. "Go right in. Miss Rushman has already arrived." I nodded at the bouncer as I entered the party. She put me as her plus one? I used the comm link that I'd managed to secretly secure on my person to contact Phil.

"Barton?" Phil asked.

"Phil," I mumbled, "I'm in." I looked around, trying to locate the Widow in the mess of a crowd that had formed.

"How did you manage that?" He said, surprised that I'd gotten in so fast.

"Apparently the Widow put me on the guest list." I shrugged even though he couldn't see me.

"Clint, be careful. Nothing is ever what it seems with Natasha Romanoff. She'd killed over a hundred people by the time she was sixteen."

"I know the statistics Phil. I read her file." I said, trying to blend in and keep the element of surprise I currently had over the Black Widow.

"Then you should know better than anyone that she likes to play games with her victims. And, I'm not gonna lie, this is starting to sound like a game." I hated to admit it, but Phil had a point. She'd even remarked for me to step up my 'game,' an incredible word choice in light of the situation. And yet, I was torn.

"I'll keep that in mind Phil." I said as I turned the comm link off. I waded through the sea of people until my eyes fell on her. Wow, I thought. I knew she was beautiful yesterday, but now she was utterly breathtaking. She was dressed in a curve hugging black gown that fully accentuated her figure. Her long red hair hung down in curled ringlets that perfectly framed her face, with its pale skin and green eyes. I tried to un-jumble my thoughts as I approached her, but when she looked at me, I was rendered speechless. She had been talking to a man in a slick black suit, both holding glasses of champagne in their hands. She eyed me as I stood there, unsure of what to say. Her eyes danced with mischief at my inability to do anything but stare at her.

"Mr. James," she said, "this is Mr. Clint Barton. He's my date for the night." She said, shooting both of us a smile. I tore my eyes away from her long enough to shake Mr. James's hand. Mr. Edward James was a successful billionaire who'd been successful in the oil industry and was the generous host of tonight's party.

"Well Mr. Barton, you are one lucky man. I think every guy in this room, single or taken, would love to be in your shoes. You've got the most beautiful girl here."

"Oh, you're giving me too much credit," she smiled again and looked down modestly.

"On the contrary," he said, taking her hand and placing a light kiss on it, "I only give credit where credit is due my dear."

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. As if on cue, I suddenly found my voice. "She is a sight, isn't she? You look stunning. I mean wow." It might have just been me, but I'm pretty sure I saw a blush creep into her face, settling on the apples of her cheeks. "Do you wanna dance?" I asked. The band had begun playing a slow song, and couples had started to move to the center of the room, twirling around hand in hand. She sat her drink down on a passing tray and took my hand.

"Lead the way," the words flowed off the tips of her lips like velvet. I led her to the center of the room and pulled her close, placing my hands on her waits. She wound her hands behind my neck as I began swaying her to the music.

"So what's next? You wanted me here, I'm here." I leaned closer and said low enough that only we could hear.

"Don't you have a job to do?" She asked playfully, that laughter like bells making yet another appearance on her lips.

"You know, from your file, I didn't take you as someone who'd have such a sense of humor." I replied, trying to ignore the warmth I felt at her closeness. I looked around the room as we danced, trying to check things out.

"Maybe I wasn't trying to be funny." I felt her shrug. "I mean I'm not wrong. You have a job to do, and I do too." I focused on her now.

"You have a job." The thought alerted me. I scanned the room, trying to find evidence of the Black Widow's handiwork. There were so many people at the party though, even if evidence was visible, it was unlikely that I'd find it in time.

"You can stop looking. I didn't do anything," she mumbled in a short voice. I looked down at her, nose winkled in confusion.

"Who's your mark?" Every time I thought I had her figured out, she threw me for a loop.

"Edward James," she looked in his direction before looking back at me.

"Why haven't you made your move? That's not in your nature." I pointed out, moving one hand to the small of her back and pulling her even closer. I didn't want there to be any chance of someone else overhearing our conversation.

"I honestly don't think you know anything about my nature. All you know is what you read in a file." Her voice had grown cold. I looked at her, and not that I would've admitted it, but I felt a pang that she was upset. I had this protective nature over her that I couldn't explain.

"So then why don't you tell me about your nature?" I challenged. "Why haven't you made your move?" She looked at me, seriousness glazing over her green eyes.

"Because I figured it out," she said simply, as if that explained everything. I looked at her, waiting for her to explain more, but she didn't. She just got this far off look in her eyes as she gazed around the room.

"Natasha, what did you figure out?" I urged. Something was wrong.

"It's a setup. They're coming to kill me." I became alarmed even though I kept my cool composure.

"Who is?"

"Marius Belov," she said. "I was actually impressed. They put on an elaborate scheme, one actually up to my standards. They hired a guy and gave him a fake identity with the fake backstory to prove it. They had him hire me to take out Edward James so that I would come to Barcelona. Marius had two expendable guys come after me in the ally to try to kill me and make me think he was actually attempting to come after me. The plan was for me to come here to take out James and they get me while I'm not expecting it."

"How did you figure this out?" I asked.

"I ran a deeper identity search on the guy who hired me. The details and backstory they gave him were good, but not good enough. I found some holes in his story. I put all the other pieces together after that." She didn't sound like herself suddenly. It was as if she'd lost her will.

"So what about me? Where do I fit in? Why am I here?" I asked, my eyes burning into hers.

"You don't….it's just…I don't know," she sighed. I'd never seen her so inarticulate. She was stumbling over her thoughts and her words. "I figure if I'm going to die tonight, I'd want you to do it." My heart sunk at the morbid thought. I just wanted to hold her and consume the sadness plaguing her.

"What? Why?" I looked at her with wide eyes. This conversation wasn't going where I expected it to go.

"I don't know, I guess I just felt you were a kindred spirit. I've felt lost for a long time, and I don't know, that first night in your hotel room, I just had this inkling that maybe at some point in your life, you were lost too. Plus, when I looked into your eyes, they were warm and full of life. I want the last thing I see before I leave the world to be like that, not cold and uncaring." The dark thoughts made me see the Black Widow in a completely different light. It seemed she'd been contemplating death for some time, but in a profession like ours, how could you not? I'd thought about dying myself, but never on the level that she'd thought about it. I looked around, trying to find the guys coming after her. I noticed one guy from across the room, but there were bound to be more.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her hard behind me. "Come on," I told her as I dragged her along.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" She asked as I pulled her through a door to a connecting conference room. I shut the door and locked it. She looked at me with wild eyes, her questions still standing. I knew what she was thinking: was I going to kill her now, here at the party? She wasn't ready to die, that much was obvious. Her body began to mildly shake. I never expected her to be so vulnerable, so fragile. I grabbed her arms.

"Hey, calm down. It doesn't have to be this way." I told her. She looked at me with shiny eyes, tears watering, threatening to fall.

"What do you mean?" She asked, visibly shaken. I pulled her closer.

"You don't have to do this. You can come work at S.H.I.E.L.D." I don't know why the idea hadn't occurred to me before. The Black Widow was legendary, and every bit of that was well deserved. I'd observed her for myself. She was a spectacular fighter. S.H.I.E.L.D. would be lucky to have her on their side. They'd be stupid to reject her. Her face twisted into doubt.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. wants me dead! They're not going to take me in! Do you know how many people I've killed, people that probably didn't deserve to die at my hands?! Do you know how I didn't care! I have a specific skill set. I don't care what I use it for!" She shouted at me.

"Exactly," I said, finding a loophole in her logic, "you don't care what you use it for. So why not use it for good? Come on, what do you have to lose? You were setting there contemplating death. I feel like it's worth the risk," I said, my voice growing softer, gentler as I moved closer to her still. She eyed me curiously. "I feel like you're worth the risk." Her mouth parted slightly as she stared at me intensely. Her eyes seemed to grow deeper the longer I stared at them. I reached out for her hand, letting my thumb rub lightly across her skin. "So what do you say?"

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

"So what do you say?" He asked me as he rubbed circles on the skin of my hand. I felt unnerved by his movements, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I wondered if he even knew what he was saying to me. I looked at him. He really thought I was worth the risk? My heart had skipped a beat when he'd said that. I knew what I was feeling was silly, and I knew what I was about to do was stupid, but I'd resigned myself to do it anyway. I shook his hand away. He looked hurt, but I let a small smile show. I closed the gap between us, cupping his face with my hands, and pulling him to me until our lips met. He kissed me back, his hands automatically finding my waist, pulling me closer. It was like time stopped and the world melted away. We weren't in Barcelona. I wasn't supposed to die that night. He wasn't sent to kill me. We were just there, together. When I finally pulled away, I exhaled softly, resting our foreheads together.

"Do you really think you'll be able to convince Fury to take me in?" I asked in a whisper.

"Yeah, I really do." He assured me. I'd hardly ever worked with a partner. I had trust issues. But as I stood there, so close to Agent Clint Barton, I wholeheartedly placed my trust and my life in his hands, willingly.

"Ok," I conceded.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile. His smile was infectious and I felt one creeping onto my face. I'd never been so openly emotional with someone. It was nice, I thought, to not have to keep it all inside, to show someone exactly how I was feeling.

"Yeah," I nodded. "So now what?"

"Now, we make it out of here alive." That would prove to be easier said than done.


	4. Chapter 4: Taken

Hello everyone, sorry I haven't updated in a bit. I've been busy, but here's the latest chapter. I don't own the Avengers sadly.

Oh but before I go, I'd been meaning to do this with every chapter and just effectively forgot until now. Music is always my muse, and I keep a list of songs I listen to while I write my stories. So just to catch you up, I'll list you my musical inspirations for the chapters.

Chapter 1 - The Beginning: Smooth by Santana ft. Rob Thomas

Chapter 2 - The Widow's Invitation: Queer by Garbage

Chapter 3 - The Proposition: February Sun by Anomie Belle (this was the song I imagined them dancing to, just an FYI)

Chapter 4 - Taken: Numb by Linkin Park and What I've Done also by Linkin Park

So without furthur ado, here's chapter four Taken. Feel free to read and review. I'm convinced it'll only make me a better writer.

Chapter Four: Taken

Natasha Romanoff

We didn't even get the chance to leave the conference room when the doors burst open. Five men filed in armed with guns. Screams could be heard from the ballroom, even the firing of shots. The men had their guns aimed at us, fully prepared to shoot. "Get out," one of the men shouted at Barton. He held his arms up in surrender and moved towards the door, leaving me there alone. I would've felt hurt, but I knew what he was doing. As soon as he was behind all of the men, he turned and landed a punch on one of the guys, knocking him out. The rest turned in surprise, distracted by Barton, giving me the moment I needed to attack.

I quickly slid across the floor and kicked the man closest to me, knocking him to the floor. I jumped to my feet and kicked the gun out of a third man's hands. He came at me, throwing a punch at me that I promptly dodged. He'd have to do better than that if he wanted to land a punch on me. I landed one hit to his face and went for another when the same man I'd kicked returned, grabbing my arm. The third guy went to punch me. I ducked down and kicked the guy holding my arm in the shin as hard as I could. He yelped in pain and let go of my arm, allowing me to untangle myself as the third guy punched the man in the face, knocking him out. I could see Barton back there fighting off two men of his own. He knocked one of them out when the third guy charged me, knocking me to my ground. "Now you're done for Widow," he growled at me. I struggled under his weight before managing to wiggle my body enough to free my arms. I pushed him off of me and rolled over, kicking off the floor to my feet. The man was charging at me again. I quickly moved and let him pass me before I kicked him into the wall behind us. I was behind him in an instant.

"I have a message for Marius. _If _you wake up, tell him that it's game on." He started to mumble something smart, but I didn't give him the opportunity to finish. I bashed his head against the hard wall and watched him fall to the ground, blood mixing with his blonde hair. I turned around to see Barton throw the last guy to the ground unconscious. We shared a look before I crossed the room to the door. "Come on, there's bound to be more men coming."

"Where are we going?" He asked, completely following my lead.

"My hotel room, we need to change." I said. My dress had gotten torn in the fighting. I couldn't run around looking like the wreck I knew I appeared to be. It was obvious and conspicuous. I felt his eyes on me, looking me up and down slowly as if he'd just noticed the torn black garment. I rolled my eyes and tugged him behind me as we made quick time up the stairs to my room.

There was so much chaos going on with the disturbance of the ball that no one seemed to notice how odd we looked or where we were going. Either way I kept looking around us to make sure we weren't being followed. We slunk down the hallway on my floor. I hurriedly pull my room key out and was just about to put it in the door when I shot Barton a look that told him to stay quiet and still. I opened the door and inched forward, expecting to see some sort of movement in the dark. I waited patiently, ever creeping forward. Finally I saw it from the corner of my eye. They were on the other side of the door. I grabbed the man's arm and flipped them, knocking them into the wall. I turned on the lights and glided in, Barton right behind me. He ducked around one side of the room, determined to check for other intruders.

I went to the closet and pulled out my catsuit. I kicked off the high heels I was wearing and unzipped my dress. I could hear his footsteps as he came back towards where I was. I had just stepped into my catsuit when he appeared. "I don't think anyone else is here…." He said, his voice trailing off. I turned to look at him, rolling my eyes gently. I pulled my arms through the sleeves and zipped it up. His eyes never once left me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you always this articulate?" I asked, reaching for my boots. I quickly pulled them off as he seemed to regain his thoughts.

"Oh uh, no intruders," he stumbled over the words. I could see the hint of embarrassment creeping into his face. I chuckled as I grabbed the guns I kept hidden in my room.

"Don't worry; you're not the first guy to stare at me." I took two guns and tossed another two to Barton.

"Do you always keep this many guns on you?" He asked, trying to pretend that previous moment had never happened.

"Of course," I said simply, "Don't you? I never met an assassin who didn't."

"I'm better with a bow," he said simply as we made our way back to the door. There was noise outside.

"More of Marius's men," I whispered to him. He nodded backwards towards the window.

"Out the fire escape, come on," he said as we quickly walked backwards, never taking our eyes off the door. Any moment a ton of men could come crashing through that door and we had to be ready when they did. Barton tore open the window and tried to land on the fire escape as quietly as he could. It clattered under his feet. He held out a hand to me, but I waved it away. I curved my way through the window and landed silently on the fire escape. "How do you do that?" He asked amazed.

"Years of practice." I couldn't help but smile. We heard the door being kicked in. "Come on, let's get out of here." I said, starting down the stairs, keeping my feet light and quick. I could hear Barton close behind. It wasn't long before the gunfire started behind us, coming from the open window above. One flew by just inches from my head. "Shit," I muttered, picking up the pace. A couple of men were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I grabbed the railing and propelled myself forward, knocking one guy down immediately. I heard gunshots firing from behind me as Barton took out the other few men.

He joined me on the sidewalk. "Man you really pissed off Marius."

"That's what happens when you kill his only brother," I said simply. "It comes with the job. Come on, let's go." I glanced around before taking off.

"Nice outfit choice. Could you be any more conspicuous?" He jabbed at me. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm sure I could. But in retrospect, I think the multitude of people trying to kill us gave us away first." I said in a short tone as I rounded the corner. People were filing into cars trying to leave the hotel after the disaster the party had turned into. I walked to the nearest one and pulled a gun. The woman who was about to get in the car shrieked and stepped back as Barton motioned for her to leave. I opened the passenger side door and smiled at the driver. He smiled back until he noticed my gun. "Get out," I said in the sweetest voice I could manage. He stumbled out of the car and Barton took his place.

He fumbled for his seat belt while I stared at him incredulously. "Really? A seat belt? We're being tracked by mobsters and you're worried about your damn seat belt?"

"What? Car chases can get nasty. I'm sure you're aware." He said as he floored it out of the hotel parking lot. We sped down some random road. "You should put yours on too."

I couldn't help but laugh. "If I get taken out by a car crash, I'll consider myself lucky. Belov's men would be worse." He glanced away from the road long enough to meet my eyes.

"Hey, we're gonna get out of here, okay, together. I won't let Belov touch you." I looked down, trying not to blush. I wasn't use to stuff like this. It was nice: having someone care. I looked back to him.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked. He quickly looked at me, a confused look on his face.

"What?" He asked, swerving to take a turn.

"Why are you helping me? I mean me of all people? I'm the Black Widow. I'm a _murderer_. You were sent here to kill me, not spare me in an attempt to recruit me. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants me dead, and they have good reason." I reminded him. He didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Yeah, well S.H.I.E.L.D.'s not here, I am. It was my call. I just made a different one than initially expected."

"You know you said S.H.I.E.L.D.'s not here, but you are S.H.I.E.L.D. You're their agent. I was your mark. Why didn't you follow orders?" I didn't know why I needed to know his motives. I just needed to know. I held my breath as I waited for his answer. He took a moment to consider his words carefully.

"Because you were right," he finally said. I looked out the window and watched the Spanish scenery pass by quickly. "At the party, I mean. You thought that I'd been lost once in my life. Well I was, bad. Nobody's perfect, especially not me. I know you've done bad things, but I did bad things too. And S.H.I.E.L.D. helped me turn things around. And after I heard that you'd pretty much resigned yourself to die, I thought maybe it could do the same for you. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I'm not so sure," I muttered. I'd committed a lot of atrocities over the years for the Red Room. I'd killed men, women, even children. I'd been a ruthless, calculated killer for so long, I wasn't sure I could be anything else.

"You wanna know what I thought when I read your file?" He asks quietly. I nodded.

"I thought you were just a victim too." I whirled my head back to look at him in surprise. No one ever considered me a victim. Hell I didn't even consider myself the victim. "You were orphaned as a child and taken in by terrible people who trained you to be a ruthless assassin. You weren't a ruthless killer; they _made_ you one." While I was touched by his words, I had my doubts.

"That's debatable. I may have been brought up to be a killer, but I still knew it was wrong. I've killed a lot of people, innocent people even."

"I'm the first to empathize with the idea that a person will do anything to hold on to the life they know. The Red Room, your training, that's the only life you've ever known. It's not hard to understand why you do what you do. It's the only existence you've ever had. But you don't have to let it define you. There are other ways." I nodded.

"You're right," I sighed, "Are we going to the airport?" It just dawned on me that I didn't exactly know where we were going.

"Not exactly, I contacted my handler at S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's sending a private plane to pick us up at a discrete location." I nodded, noticing something out of the side mirror.

"We've got trouble," I told him. We were being followed.

"Shit," Barton muttered. He sped up and changed lanes, but the sleek, black van behind us kept us. As we bobbed and weaved through traffic, I kept my eyes glued to the car behind us. So when the car began to accelerate faster than us, I knew it was coming.

"Brace for impact," I said as the car hit us from behind. We swerved slightly, but Barton somehow managed to keep us on tract. The car collided with us again, and that's when the bullets started. The windshield shattered. "Shit," I said. Barton tried to speed up. I grasped my gun. "Hang on; I'll take care of this." I moved to the back of the car, taking cover behind one of the seats. I leaned out into the open and fired several shots at the close car. I successfully busted their font windshield, the glass heavily cutting the men in the front. The car jumped lanes and began approaching us from the side. I moved back to the passenger's seat and rolled the window down. I didn't want glass flying at me. I shot at the driver, but missed. Then I had the idea of the tires. I fired four rounds into the nearest tire. I quickly aimed again and fired my last two shots into the closest back tire, effectively slowing down the car.

"Nice shot," Barton said to me as we cruised down the street. I settled back into my seat and put my seat belt back on. I could sense him smiling at that. I smiled back and looked around and noticed the incoming car too late to say anything. It had to be going at least 80 mph. It hit us hard, and that's when we crashed.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

I was vaguely aware that the car had flipped several times, landing upside down. My whole body hurt like hell, but my head hurt the worst. Sharp pains throbbed in it as I opened my eyes, using up a lot of my strength. My vision was fuzzy, and it hurt to stay awake, but I forced myself. I looked over at Natasha who had hit her head on the dash pretty hard. I could see the blood trickling down her unconscious head. It almost blended in with her hair. I tried to reach out and touch her, but my arm wouldn't move. It wouldn't listen to my brain. I even tried to open my mouth, but no sound came out.

That's when I heard movement outside the car. Footsteps were approaching fast. The passenger door was ripped open. My eyes had begun to drift shut as my mind started to drift off, but I forced myself to stay awake long enough to see the men who'd caused us to crash pick up Natasha, her body remaining limp and weak in their arms. I wanted to stop them. I wanted to get up and kick their asses for touching her, for causing the crash and hurting her. I wanted to protect her, but I was too weak, too hurt to do anything by lay there and watch. "What about the other guy?" One of the men asked.

"Leave him," was the answer. "He'll probably be dead from his wounds in a few minutes. Besides Belov didn't say anything about him. He just wants the Black Widow. Come on, let's go. Marius is expecting us." With that, I watched them take Natasha, fully aware that I'd broken my promise to her. I had told her only moments ago that I wouldn't let Belov touch her. I'd let her down, but I would get her back. I was bound and determined, but the darkness intervened, bringing me under the healing powers of unconsciousness.

When I finally did wake up, they were long gone….


	5. Chapter 5: Jail Break

Sorry I haven't updated. I wanted to finish it last night, but I fell asleep. This is a longer chapter, so hopefully that makes up for it. :) I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm glad so many people are enjoying it so far. As always, feel free to read and review. Let me know what you think. Also as always, I don't own the Avengers.

Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park and Hero by Skillet

Chapter Five: Jail Break

Clint Barton

When my eyes finally mustered enough strength to open, I felt cold. Where was I? What was I doing? The grogginess of injury clouded my mind as I fumbled through my thoughts for the answers to the important questions, and it was then that I started to remember the woman with the fiery red hair and marvelous green eyes. Natasha, his mission to kill her, his proposition to bring her in to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., Belov's men, the car crash: memories flooded back to my head, sending sharp pangs through my body. And then my logic kicked in: Marius had Natasha, and he was going to kill her.

I sat up, still cooped up in the crashed vehicle. Glass shards had wriggled themselves in my arms and I pulled them out painfully. I needed to get out of here. I wasn't sure how long I'd been unconscious or what kind of a head start Marius's men had on me, but I had to try. Giving up now would be unfair to Natasha. I'd promised her I wouldn't let Marius touch her, and the last time I checked I was a man of my word. I turned my comm link on. "Phil?"

"Barton where have you been? I've been trying to contact you for hours! Where are you? The plane's been waiting for you!"

"I, uh, ran into a problem."

"Barton, you always find a way to run into a problem," Phil sighed into the comm link. I could hear his eyes roll in annoyance. "What's wrong now?"

"I've lost the Black Widow again." I said, patiently waiting for Phil's predicted reply of upset.

"What do you mean you lost her again? Your mission details were simple! You go to Barcelona, you track the Black Widow, you take her out, and then you get to the plane and come back home! What is so complicated about that?!"

"Nothing about the Black Widow is ever simple Phil. You read her file, you know that, but it wasn't her this time." I said, suddenly remembering I hadn't told Phil about my proposition to Natasha yet. He certainly wouldn't approve, and I would have a hard time convincing him over the comm links, so I had just told him to send the plane and that I would be there soon.

"What do you mean it wasn't her?" Phil asked, confusion peaking in his voice.

"Well I had her, I _had_ her Phil, but I was interrupted by Spanish mobsters. They've got her."

"Which mobsters?"

"Marius Belov," I answered.

"What would Marius Belov want with the Black Widow?" I knew what I had to say to Phil to get him on my side. It was the only way he would let me go after her.

"I think he's going to hire her." I said.

"Do we have a read on the possible target?" Shit, I was trying to think on my feet, and then it hit me.

"Edward Jones," I said, silently sighing in relief, "She was talking to him closely when I arrived at the party. And I saw the men who took the Widow eyeing James too."

I heard Phil click his tongue. "You just might be on to something Barton. I want you to find Marius and prevent that from happening. And don't forget to finish your mission. Fury wants the Black Widow taken out ASAP."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind Phil," I said, knowing that when the time came to bring my proposition to S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury was going to give me hell.

"What do you need from me to get started?"

"Give me all the information you have on Marius Belov." I turned my comm link off after Phil said he'd work on getting the information I needed. I crawled out from the car wreckage and dusted myself off. If Marius Belov wanted the Black Widow, he was going to have to go through me. "Game on," I whispered to the air around me.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

My eyelids fluttered open and closed several times before I finally settled into consciousness. I was lying down, staring up at the bright lights and the white ceilings. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. And that's when I remembered the car crash. Anxiety flooded through my body as I bolted upwards into a sitting position.

Everything was white the walls, the floors, the ceiling. The only thing that wasn't white was the bars, trapping me in a cell. Everything looked sterile and cold, matching the climate of the room perfectly as a chill rolled through my body, causing me to shiver. Then a thought entered my mind: if I was here, where was Barton? I looked around furiously for signs that he was near. I dared not speak his name. That would give Marius even more power over me. "He's not here," a voice suddenly said.

I whirled my head back around to see Marius, himself, standing before me. He hadn't changed much since the last time I'd been involved in his business. He had short, dark hair and a pointed mustache with dark skin and cold eyes that were so dark a brown that they looked black. He was dressed in a black shirt and brown trousers with a long dark brown overcoat. He still looked as intimidating as ever, not that I let him know that. I looked as if I could care less that he was Marius Belov, the most powerful mobster in Spain, or that it was his intention to kill me in retribution for his brother.

I knew exactly what he meant, but any kind of reaction would just be used later against me. I kept my face calm and relaxed, even tilting my head to the side in feigned confusion, "Who's not here?"

He chuckled in my amusement at my game. "The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent you were with."

"Too bad, it could have been a real party." I sarcastically teased. One of the biggest strengths I had in the game of assassination was my ability to never show how I was truly feeling. I looked in control, unafraid, and when the time came cold and uncaring, all the while feeling the anxiety and fear that comes with the job. When you were an assassin, you couldn't show fear at all, because the second you did, your enemies would use it against you in the worst possible way.

He sneered at me. "Play all you want Black Widow, it doesn't change things. I will avenge my brother. And your little protector, he's as good as dead." He waited to see my reaction, but I held it in. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. When I didn't betray any emotions, Marius's face fell into one of annoyance.

"What?" I asked playfully, "Was that supposed to upset me? 'My little protector', as you call him, he means nothing to me. He's expendable, a means to an end. I was going to kill him myself when everything was said and done." I took a hard edge as I approached the bars keeping me prisoner. I wanted to show Marius that nothing that he did would break me or bother me, even when they really did. Barton, I thought, you'd better be okay.

Marius's smile returned. "If that were the case," he said, walking towards me too, "you would've already killed him." He thought he had me, but he wasn't anywhere close.

"It's called strategy Marius. I mean, I know you and your mobster crew wouldn't understand such a complex concept, but some of us actually like to have a tactical approach to our professions." I let the words glide off my lips like the music they were to my ears. I knew exactly what buttons my words would press with him, playing off his secret uncertainties. "You know you like to come off as the powerful, strong mobster, but in reality, you're nothing more than a scared child, trying to make it in your father's family business. Do you think he would like the way you're running things?" I purred in a soft, seductive voice. "We both know he wouldn't. He would abhor everything you stand for. You're all brute force and no planning, which, don't get me wrong, is important, but not your father's game. He would be so disappointed."

Marius banged his hands on the bars of my cell in anger, causing them to resonate wildly. "SILENCE! YOU STUPID GIRL, YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MY FATHER OR MY BUSINESS!" He screamed at me. I smiled because his reaction meant that I had won. I now had a certain power over him by exploiting his weakness. Unfortunately, it was the type of power that wouldn't break me out of here. Marius was breathing heavily as he stared at me with wide eyes through the bars. He calmed himself and pulled his overcoat straighter. He inhaled deeply. "Well you certainly do live up to the name you made for yourself."

"Would you expect anything less?" I asked, pretending to be offended by his statement. I shot him a devilish grin.

His eyes were tired with weariness. He sighed, "Go ahead and play your games Widow. They won't save you in the end." He snapped his fingers and a wall compartment opened up, as a television screen slid into view. The television clicked on to show the outside of Marius's house, heavily guarded by five men clutching guns at their sides and two others farther out who were armed themselves. "There are guards all over the grounds of the house, and some positioned inside the house as well. Even if you manage to get out of your cage, which I highly doubt you will, you'll never make it off of my property alive." He slowly smiled, finding alertness in his apparent triumph over me. "Game, set, and match."

I had to admit: the situation looked bleak. I'm good at what I do, but as I realized how many men Marius was using to keep me prisoner here, I became possessed by the idea that maybe I wasn't _that_ good. I suddenly realized that I really might have to come to terms with dying. I felt the panic rise in my body, but my face never once wavered. Until the bitter end, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But I couldn't lie. I was scared, and I had a feeling he was right. Even if I did get out of this cage, I wasn't sure I'd get out alive.

That's when one of the men on the television fell, his gun clanking to the ground, something protruding from his chest. Marius eyed the screen curiously. He got closer to the television, leaning in to watch as one of the other men pulled the unidentified object out of the dead man's chest. I watched myself, and when I figured out what it was, I held my breath. Marius twisted around to look at me before looking back at the screen, once he figured out what it was too. It was a game changer. In the man's hand was a now bloodied arrow.

Marius knocked on the door. A lesser armed man appeared on the other side. "Watch her," Marius growled. "It looks like I underestimated S.H.I.E.L.D.," Marius said before disappearing from my sight. I closed my eyes in momentary relief. He was alive, and he'd come here to rescue me. My eyes fell open at the realization. He came here to save me. Hawkeye was good, but much like me, he was no match for all those men by himself. He would die if I didn't get out of here and help him.

I looked the man Marius had ordered to watch me. He was smaller, scrawnier, more innocent looking. He was a boy. He also looked a tad bit afraid. He had a single hand gun in his tensed hand. I made him nervous I realized. I smiled slightly. "Why so tense?" I turned on every aspect of charm.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you." He was practically shaking in his boots. I almost felt bad for the kid. I remembered being that nervous once.

"I know what it's like you know," I started, "having to prove yourself. I've been there. You're so nervous that you're going to mess up, and nine times out of ten, that nervousness is what screws you up. How many times have you screwed up?" He didn't answer at first, just turned around and ignored me. I saw the shiny gleam of the keys to my cell. I had to get those. "Oh come on, tell me. It feels good to get it off your chest. Trust me." I knew my plan was working when the kid turned around to look at me.

"Way too many times. I'm a screw-up. And I just try so hard to make my dad proud." Something about that made me think.

"What's your name kid?" I had an inkling I knew, but I needed confirmation before I used it.

"Michael Belov," He said. He was Marius's son. Perfect. I contorted my face into one of smooth pity.

"It must be hard," I said softly. He nodded.

"It is," he mumbled.

"I wasn't talking about you." He looked up to me, confused. My face turned cold in a heartbeat, the steely gaze in my eyes taking him by surprise. "I was talking about Marius. It must be hard for him to have a son that's such a disappointment." He was definitely taken aback by my comments. I'd thrown him for a loop switching sides like that. He didn't say anything so I took that as my sign to continue. "I mean look at you," I said, looking him up and down disdainfully. "You're a child, a scrawny, rather pathetic looking child. It's no wonder you've screwed up lots of times. You know I'm really having a hard time believing that you've done anything right ever. It must eat away at you."

"What?" He stuttered as he sputtered the word.

"The fact that your father hates you," I started. I saw his eyes narrow and I knew I was getting warmer. "The fact that he wishes he had a better son, a stronger son. I mean just think about the family business. You think he's gonna leave it to you? He'd never do his family name the disservice." I spit at him, and that did it. He was angry. He hit the bars of my cell just like his father had minutes ago. Like father, like son: the exact thing I was counting on. The Belov family had daddy issues.

"STOP IT!" He yelled at her.

"What are you going to do about it? You're out there, and I'm in here! If you wanna stop me, you'll have to come in here to get me." I said, leaning as close to him through the bars that I could.

He stood up straighter and scoffed. "I'm not stupid. You just want me to come in there so you can get out. You know, you're good, I'll give you that, but not good enough." He said, still visibly shaken from my comments. I'd definitely hit the right nerve. I suppressed a smile as everything was playing out according to plan.

His mistake was turning around. I reached one arm through the bars and pulled him back, wrenching my arm tightly around his neck. I untangled the set of keys from his belt with the other hand as I felt him starting to fade from consciousness. "Sorry kid, nothing personal, my friend's out there, and I gotta help him," I muttered as his legs started to shake and give way. I bent down to gently lower him to the ground. Poor kid, I really could empathize with him. I sighed as I fumbled for through the keys trying every single one until one finally opened my cell door. I wedged it open enough to get up and dropped the keys on top of Michael. I picked up the gun he'd dropped when I grabbed him by surprise. He should really learn how to hold on to this better, I thought as I exited the room. I had a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to find.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

I'd taken out the men at the front door pretty easily. I had a notable reputation as a marksman. After all I was the 'great Hawkeye', or at least that's what they told me. But I had to say, it was getting tougher to fight my way through here. Marius had a lot of men, and I was about to run out of arrows. Not to mention the fact that my body was already pretty damaged from the car wreck. It's not like I'd had time to recoup from that. But I had to find Natasha. I ran down the winding hallways, firing arrows at every man I saw. I had no idea where Natasha was in this house, and the deeper I went into the labyrinth of halls, the more unsure I became that I would ever find her.

A man came out of nowhere. I reached for an arrow, but found none left. Shit, I thought. I had to improvise. I swung the bow at him, but he ducked and grabbed my, taking us both to the ground. He laid a few punches on me before I managed to reach the bow. I'd dropped it in the fall. I gripped my hand tightly around it and used all the force I could muster to swing it and hit him in the back of the head. He was definitely seeing stars as he collapsed unconscious on top of me. I pushed him up. I searched him and luckily found a gun. I held it tightly as I continued. I figured the more guys were around, the closer I was getting to Natasha. So really, this was a good sign. I heard gun fire behind me and bullets zipping way to close for comfort. I quickened my pace, turning a corner. Man, I'd been lucky to not have gotten hit. I leaned around the corner and saw two guys positioned with their guns ready. I readied the gun and prepared myself for what I was about to do.

I had maybe a span of two feet that was exposed to the gunmen. I scooted back and bit and took a running start, sliding across the floor. I fired shots as I entered the opening of the hallway, successfully taking out the two men easily, but not completely unscathed. My arm burned from where one of their bullets had grazed my skin. But it could've been much worse. It was slightly funny, in a non-laughable way, but you'd figure mobsters would have better aim.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

The best part about breaking out of the cell was that no one saw me coming. They expected me to still be stuck behind bars, being watched by Belov's kid. I had the best element of surprise in the midst of Barton's arrival. The first two guards I came to never stood a chance. They didn't even get the chance to turn around and see me before I fired bullets into the back of their heads. Their body's fell silently to the floor. I exchanged my weapon for their two guns, holding one in each hand, finger on the trigger, poised and ready. I moved down the hallways, always cautiously checking around every corner before rounding it. "It's the Black Widow." One of the guards said just before I shot him in the stomach. I didn't have time to play games. I needed to find Barton and get out. The other guard pulled his own gun and fired at me. I moved to the side dodging it. I fired another round at him, hitting him in the leg. I picked his gun up off the floor, discarding my almost empty one. He looked at me as I kicked his head into the nearest wall, knocking him unconscious.

I had a thought then. If Barton and I were moving towards each other, we would just meet in the middle. That's when I felt a man's hands grab me from behind. Big mistake, I thought, as I wretched his hands off my body, spinning around and kneeing him in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him as he stumbled backwards. He recovered faster than I'd expected and came at me again. He kicked me, knocking me down, but I just used it to my advantage, swinging one leg to knock him to the floor as well. I fumbled for the gun I'd drop as he crawled to me. I almost had it when he grabbed my hair, yanking me back to him. I elbowed him, causing him to free my hair, before head-butting him. I stood rubbing the back of my head. I would feel that one in the morning.

I picked up the weapon and continued as a guard rounded the corner. I shot him before he had a chance to do anything and kept walking, careful to step over the trail of blood.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

I could hear gunfire from the opposite end of the building. Natasha, I thought. We were close. We had to be close. I quickened my pace even more, running in the direction of the shooting. "NATASHA!" I screamed. I wanted her to know that I was close too. "NATASHA!" I rushed around the corner only to be tripped by something in my way. As I rolled over, I realized it was by someone rather than something. Marius Belov himself stood before me, gun poised at my head.

"Hello, you must be Agent Barton. I would introduce myself, but I take it you know who I am. I have to say, you haven't made a good first impression. I mean you come into my home and kill dozens of my men. I have to say I don't appreciate it." If I didn't do something quick, he was going to shoot me, I thought as he gave his piece. I kept calm, my gaze never wavering as different numbers floated around in my head. Finally I resolved to take the most direct approach. As soon as he stopped talking I kicked him in the shin, taking him off guard. He bent over in surprise and I kicked the gun from his hands before kicking him in the leg one more time to cause him to fall backwards. I rolled onto my feet and rushed towards the gun. I almost had my hands on it when I felt Marius's arm around my neck, pulling me farther away from it. Damn it. He was going to kill me right here right now.

I struggled against his grip as much as I could, trying to pull myself to the weapon. That gun was the only thing that was going to save my life. I gained only a few inches, but my head had grown lightheaded. I was about to black out, and when that happened he would shoot me. I used all the strength I could muster, but it wouldn't be enough I realized. Shit, this is how I was gonna go out: at the hands of a mobster. "You shouldn't have come back to save her." He whispered into my ear. "She's gonna be the death of you. Stupid boy, this is what she does. She tricks people, makes them think you can trust her. All the while she's planning the way she's going to stab you in the back. You don't mean anything to her. You never did and you never will."

My vision had grown spotty. Just a little more time, I needed just a little more time, a little more strength. But I wasn't going to get it. The edges of my vision were already darkening. I begged my body to hold on a little longer, but it was tired from the intense battling I'd been doing. No, just a little longer. And that's when I heard the gunshot. I felt liquid over my arms and I knew it was blood. I just didn't know where Marius had gotten another weapon. I slowly waited to die. I'd always expected it to be more painful. And that's when I realized I wasn't dying, and it wasn't my blood grazing my skin; it was Marius's.

I pushed the dying man off of me and looked back. I saw the red hair and sighed in relief. She'd gotten to me in time.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

I'd heard him screaming my name. He'd been close. I'd fought off the last of the guards before rounding the corner to where he should be. Marius had beaten me to him, and I knew Marius was going to kill him. Barton was strong, but Marius had the upper hand and was choking the life out of him. The one thing that surprised me the most though about finding Marius and Barton was how much I was unnerved by the scene, by the thought of Marius killing Barton. It bothered me how much I cared. I shouldn't care. I barely knew Barton, but somehow that didn't matter. I did care, and I cared a hell of a lot more than I should have, more than I would ever let on.

That was the moment I had to make a decision. I had to pick a side. I could let Barton die, and then kill Marius. They'd both be out of my hair, and I could walk out of here and go back to my life as the best assassin that Russia had to offer. Or, I could kill Marius right now and save Barton's life and face the uncertain future, one that may include working for S.H.I.E.L.D. or one that may not. Hell, Fury could kill me when Barton took me to S.H.I.E.L.D., or this could all be an elaborate setup to catch the infamous Black Widow and bring me down when I least expected it. I had no way of knowing. That second option had way too many variables for me to feel comfortable with. I knew Barton was close to dying. And that's when I knew which choice I was going to make.

I pointed the gun at Marius's body and fired.

Barton didn't move for a few moments. Then finally, he pushed the dying mobster off of him and looked back to see me. He sighed in relief as we locked eyes. He pushed himself off the floor as I walked to him. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "You ok?" He nodded at me.

"What about you?" He asked.

"I'm fine. Let's just get out of here before more men show up. I don't know how much more fighting I can take." He actually managed to chuckle a little.

"You and me both, come on," He waved his arm for me to go first. I started to walk and that's when I felt the searing pain tear through my right arm as another gun went off. I was pissed when I turned around to see Marius Belov, a fast fading man, shakily holding a gun. I'm sure he'd meant to hit me somewhere where injury would've been more serious. But he was dying and his aim was way off. I pointed my gun at him and fired one last shot before throwing my gun down. He was dead before my gun hit the floor.

I clutched my arm tightly. "Shit," I muttered. Barton put a hand on the back of my neck.

"The S.H.I.E.L.D. medic will patch that up when we get to the plane." I nodded.

"So that proposition is still open?"

"Well you did just save my life. That speaks volumes. So yeah, that proposition is still open. I wouldn't have come to save you if it wasn't. Now let's go home." Home, the word sounded foreign. I'd never really had a permanent home. There'd been the Red Room in Russia, but it had never felt like home. It had been merely a place I'd lived. I smiled and followed Barton out of Marius Belov's house, looking forward to the warm connotation of the word 'home.'

Also:

I'm going to give you the Chapter Six title so that you can get an idea of where the story's going in the next chapter. I would give you a short tagline, but I feel like the chapter title will be all you'll need to imagine. So without further ado, Chapter Six is entitled: Fury.

I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll try and update soon! Happy New Year everyone!


	6. Chapter 6: Fury

Here we go guys. Chapter six! I hope you enjoy it. The musical inspiration was Miss Independent by Kelly Clarkson and Supermassive Black Hole by Muse. I don't own the Avengers. The next chapter will jump a bit and recap the events of the movie. I just felt it was important to establish the Widow / Hawkeye back story in detail, or at least the version I created in this story. But don't worry, there will be flashbacks to important moments of theirs throughout the story. Feel free to review.

Chapter Six: Fury

Clint Barton

Natasha's arm was still bleeding pretty badly by the time we got back to the new car I'd technically stolen. I'd parked it a few blocks away. I'd done my best to bandage it up with a torn piece of my shirt, but the white fabric was stained red. I turned on my comm link. "Coulson."

"Clint, thank God!" Phil exclaimed. "I've been worried sick! Are you ok?"

"Yeah, uh, about that…there's a medic on the plane right?"

"Yes, of course, Clint, are you alright?" I was actually touched that Phil sounded so panicked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm on my way to the plane now." I looked over at Natasha as I tore down the street. I knew she must be in real pain even though she kept her emotions in check. I could only occasionally see a flicker of discomfort flash across her face.

"And the mission?" Coulson asked.

"Complete." I lied. Coulson was going to have my head on a platter when he found out what I did. But I looked at the dangerous, ruthless Black Widow sitting in the passenger seat, bleeding from a gunshot wound she received after saving my life, and I knew I was making the right decision.

"Excellent. Good work Barton. Fury will be pleased to hear that. Have a safe trip home, and take it easy. God only knows how much pain you're in right now. I mean Marius Belov and the Black Widow. You deserve a medal kid."

"Yeah ok, thanks Phil." I said, turning the comm link off again.

"Do you often lie to your superiors?" She asked immediately my conversation with Coulson ended. Her voice was gentle and soft, its musical quality ever present.

"Uh, no, not usually, but I consider this a special circumstance." She used her left hand to pull her hair behind her ear.

"What did you tell them about Belov?" She asked genuine curiosity present in her musical voice.

"I told them what I had to in order to get S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help in finding you. I told them I thought Belov was hiring you to take down Edward James." She laughed slightly.

"You're gonna have to some explaining to do when Fury finds out what you did." We were stopped at a red light. I looked over at her, reaching over to pull the strand of red hair that had fallen loose yet again back behind her ear. I felt her shiver slightly under my touch.

"Yeah, I am. And he's gonna be pissed off about it, but Fury doesn't scare me."

"From what I hear, he probably should." She said, as I ran my hand down her cheek. I let my hand linger there on her cheek.

"Well normally he would, but I know I'm right on this. I'm so right on this that I'm not intimidate or afraid of Fury's reaction. At this point, there's nothing he can say that would change my mind about bringing you in." She stared at me with those amazing green eyes, and I felt her leaning in to kiss me again. We were so close to each other when the sound of the car behind us honking broke the spell. She pulled away and looked down. The light had turned green. I swallowed and continued driving.

"Thank you," she said finally after a few moments of silence. I looked at her.

"For what?" I asked. In reality I should be the one thanking her. She saved my life. I was going to die. If she hadn't been there, Marius Belov would've murdered me.

"For coming to save me…and for not killing me like you were supposed to." Her voice had gotten quieter.

"You don't have to thank me for those things. I could thank you for the exact same things. Looks like that's our ride," I told her as we pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. A small plane was waiting.

I turned the car off, leaving the keys on the dashboard and moved to open the door. Natasha sat very still, not making any movements. I shut my door again and looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. I just need a moment to soak it all in. Once I get out of this car and get on that plane, my life is in your hands. I can't go back to the Red Room; they'll kill me on sight. And there's still a chance that Fury will have me killed when I get to S.H.I.E.L.D. with you. This is a big risk for me. I don't normally trust people." She stared straight ahead. I reached over and touched her hand. At the feel of my touch, she looked down at our intertwined hands.

"But you trust me. You trusted me enough to accept my proposition. You trusted me enough to get in a car and drive here. You trusted me enough to save me. But I guess the real question is do you trust me enough to step on that plane with me?" She looked at me with desperate eyes. "Hey, I won't let anything happen to you. I promised you I wouldn't let Marius touch you and technically he didn't. That makes me a man of my word. You can trust me Natasha. I'll take care of you. Now, do you trust me?"

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

Natasha stayed close to me as we boarded the plane. The medic was waiting near the door. I walked on first. "Agent Barton," the medic greeted me. He looked me up and down and gave me a confused look. "I thought Coulson said you would need medical attention. You don't appear to have any major wounds. I can see the marks on your neck, but I can't do anything about those." This was the moment of truth. I was going to have to share my proposition with someone other than Natasha or myself. It was just as well. I'd need to practice for my conversation with Fury.

"The medic's not for me," I started, prompting more confusion from him. His name was Jeffery Davis. He had been the medic on the majority of my S.H.I.E.L.D. missions. He'd patched up bullet holes, deep cuts, and cleaned numerous amounts of wounds on my body. I'd like to think we were friends of sorts, that we'd formed even a tiny relationship during the significant amount of time he'd spent saving my life. "It's for her," I said, waving Natasha forward. I thought Jeffery was going to pass out when the Black Widow showed herself.

"Barton," he warned. "What did you do? You realize everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks she's dead."

"I did what was best. Now would you please do your job Jeffery! She's been shot. I tried bandaging it, but she's losing a lot of blood." Droplets of her blood were starting to drip off the white fabric tied around her arm.

"Why should I help her?" Jeffery demanded. "Besides, Fury wouldn't want it. He's gonna have your job for this."

"Yeah? Well you let me deal with Fury. Now just please patch her up"

"No." Jeffery was adamant. I was starting to get annoyed with this. I gently grabbed her arm and brought it closer to Jeffery. The metallic smell of blood wafted through the air.

"Do you this? She got shot in the arm by Marius Belov after she shot him." I was going to make him understand. I was going to make him take my side.

"The Black Widow…kill someone…well I never would've thought," Jeffery said with bitter sarcasm. "At least this time it was that scum Belov and not another innocent."

"Not the point Jeffery," I started, my voice getting cross, "You wanna know why she shot Belov?"

"I can only imagine."

"Belov was choking me. I had maybe sixty seconds before I was done for. I couldn't reach my gun. I was gonna die. But she shot him instead. She got shot saving my life. So I'd appreciate it if you took care of her." Jeffery hesitated at first before nodding and waving Natasha over. He took off the torn piece of shirt and began wiping away dried blood.

"Coulson's gonna kill you." He said simply. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Tell me about it."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

My arm hurt like hell, but I was glad the bullet had been removed. After the medic Jeffery finished, he silently left me and Barton alone, disappearing up front by the captain. Barton had taken a seat next to one of the windows and patted the seat next to him. I sat down and looked out the window too, watching the white puffs of clouds. I felt his thumb stroking my hand again, sending waves of warmth through my body. "You should get some sleep," he said. "You're gonna need to be well rested for the confrontation with Fury."

I nodded. "You should probably get some sleep too. You're the one who's really gonna need it."

"I won't sleep until you sleep," he confessed. I leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly before settling in my seat. I laid my head on his shoulder. I was consciously aware of him, how close we were, and how was still rubbing small circles on my hand as I easily drifted off. It was by far the best sleep I'd had in years.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

I woke up sometime later. My head was still laid on Barton's shoulder, and he was asleep now too, his head gently lay close to mine. I looked down to find our hands intertwined. The closeness was nice. I hadn't been openly close with someone like that for years. And then I became unnerved by the fact that I was so connected to Agent Barton even though I'd known him for only such a short time. This was going to be a problem. I could feel it. As easily and quietly as I could, I untangled our hands and shifted seats. I needed some distance to help clear my head.

Jeffery appeared from what felt like thin air and gave me a somewhat surprised look. "You're awake." He said. I nodded. "And you moved." I gave him a skeptical look.

"Yeah I did." I could tell that he wanted to say more, and he even opened his mouth. But he promptly closed it and nodded. "Are we close?" I asked. I had no idea how long I'd been out. I couldn't recall ever having been that relaxed while sleeping. It'd been sweet and warm. I couldn't help but smile thinking about it, and then I caught myself. No, I thought. I couldn't get into this.

If Jeffery noticed the flashing emotions across my face, he didn't let on. He looked outside and nodded. "Yes, we are actually about to start our descent. You should wake him up." He pointed at Barton before leaving the same way he came.

I sighed and leaned back against my seat, and that's when I felt the pang in my shoulder. I was going to definitely be sore a couple of days, but I'd been worse off and was even well trained enough to tune the pain out. That was definitely a benefit because I didn't know what I was going to walking into with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Barton. I might need to make a fast escape.

I noticed the plane starting to get lower, so I leaned over and gently shook Barton. He jerked away, catching me off guard, and lurching forward, stopped by his seatbelt. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's just me." I whispered. He looked at me wide-eyed before realizing who I was. He breathed deeply and nodded.

"Sorry about that. I'm not used to having someone else accompanying me. Usually if someone is waking me up, it's a bad sign." He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed. I gave him a half smile.

"Don't worry about it. The plane's about to touch down." I pointed to the window where the New York city scene had come into view as we neared the airport. Barton turned and eyed the cityscape himself.

"It's time for you to meet Fury."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

It was the moment of truth, I thought, as the plane landed on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s personal runway. I could see Coulson waiting outside for me to exit the plane so he could debrief me on my mission and give me details about what was expected in my report even though I'd written enough reports that I could tell you the format in my sleep. I stood and held out my hand to the Black Widow. "Ready to make your entrance?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Just like that?" The words slipped off her lips with ease and rhythm and it was hard to not reply in something that would rhyme. I looked towards the door where Jeffrey was exiting. He stopped at the door and turned to look at me, then from me to the Black Widow. He shook his head, looking down, before finally walking through the doors. I met her deep green eyes.

"Just like that."

As we exited the plane, I noticed the wind was blowing. Natasha ran one hand through her hair as we took the stairs to the ground. I could see Coulson's polite smile drop instantly, even from across the runway. "Just let me do all the talking," I told her as we approached Phil.

"Wouldn't dream of interrupting," She teased back, hiding her eyes under a pair of black sunglasses. I had to smile. I'd expected Phil to look pissed, but instead he was too shocked to look like anything but someone obviously caught hopelessly off-guard. His eyes never left Natasha as we walked to him. In fact, I could feel everyone's eyes on her as we stopped in front of Coulson.

Phil didn't say anything, not even when I cleared my throat. Finally I broke the silence that surrounded the three of us. "Hey Phil, I'm back. Did you miss me?" It was as if the sound of my voice broke the spell. Phil glared at me, anger boiling in his irises.

"Barton, what did you do?" He muttered. I smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I brought you a present," I said, casually motioning to the calm, cool, and collected woman standing beside me. Phil's mouth dropped a little lower and his eyes even bugged out a little. "Phil Coulson," I said, not missing a beat, "Meet Natasha Romanoff, the otherwise elusive Black Widow." Natasha held out her hand that Phil reluctantly took. Natasha used her free hand to push her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose.

"Charmed," she said, giving Phil one of those smiles that only she was capable of making, the one that melted any guy's heart, especially mine.

"Barton, did your mission details mean anything to you? I mean are you just trying to get Fury to kill you?" Phil practically shouted at me. Everyone around pretended to be doing something else, but it was apparent they were all eavesdropping. But in reality, if I were one of those people, I'd be eavesdropping too. This was, after all, the scope of the lifetime.

"Calm down Phil. I understood your mission details, but the plan I came up with was better. And I think once I explain it to Fury, he'll agree." Phil rubbed his face in frustration.

"Is this a game to you Barton? I mean I know you've pulled your share of stunts here at S.H.I.E.L.D., but this…this is pushing the limit way too far. You are out of line. Do you realize what Fury will do when he finds – " Phil was caught off by the sound of his own phone ringing. His eyes went wide. It rang again.

"You gonna get that?" I asked, a hint of humor in my voice. Phil shot me a look before answering the phone.

"Coulson," he said, "I know sir…I'm aware…I know…But I'm sure…I'm pos…" Phil trailed off. Man Fury wasn't letting him get a word in edgewise. "Yes sir, right away sir." He said, hanging up. He looked at me, a grave look on his face. "He wants to see you."

"I expected nothing less," I said.

"Well come on, better not keep him waiting." Coulson sighed and began walking towards the main building where Fury was sure to be waiting, fuming as usual when things didn't go exactly like he'd planned them too. I gestured for Natasha to go first and she followed Coulson towards S.H.I.E.L.D., never missing a beat. I followed closely behind.

Everyone stared as we walked through the halls. Gossip sure spread like wildfire around here. People shot Natasha all kinds of looks, and I made sure I was right there to give them evil glares right back. She just walked along, as if oblivious to everyone's wondering eyes. But I knew she knew they were watching. She was just probably used to people watching by now.

Agent Maria Hill was waiting at the door as we turned down the corridor that led to where Fury was waiting. When she saw me, she crossed the hallway within seconds. I knew exactly what was coming. I'd known Hill long enough. So I knew to brace for the feel of her hand on my cheek. And sure enough she slapped me right there in front of everyone, the sound resonating through the building. I wouldn't be surprised if the agents in the cafeteria had heard it. "Agent Hill, always a pleasure," I quipped.

"How could you be so stupid?" She yelled. "I mean come on Barton! Do you know who she is?! Of all the irresponsible shit you've ever pulled Barton, this has to top the cake! You do realize you compromised that mission! You brought a Russian agent into S.H.I.E.L.D.! What were you thinking?!" I didn't get a chance to reply to that. I opened my mouth to speak, but was silenced by a deep, hard voice.

"That's enough Agent Hill." Maria turned around to face Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., in all of his intimidating glory. Maria didn't say another word, but made sure to glare at me as we entered the room.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

The man that I knew was Nick Fury had his back to us, his long black overcoat the only thing we could really focus on. I stayed quiet like Barton had asked and intended to let him do all of the talking until it was my time to speak. I knew that time would come and I knew that it would be smart to keep my mouth shut until that time. "Agent Barton," Fury called as he slowly turned around to face us. Barton stepped forward to meet him.

"Director Fury," Barton greeted him with a nod.

"Agent Barton, would you care to tell me what you thought you were doing when you deliberately disobeyed orders and purposely compromised your mission?" Fury demanded, getting right down to business. Barton didn't even bat an eyelash.

"I was thinking what a waste it would be for me to actually carry out my mission Director." He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, keeping his face absent of emotions.

"And why is that?" Fury quickly followed up. Barton pointed towards me.

"Because S.H.I.E.L.D. would be damn lucky to have an agent like her," He said, not flinching, just remaining still and solid in his opinion. Fury looked at me curiously before turning back to Barton.

"And how did you come to such a conclusion Agent Barton? It didn't have anything to do with personal feelings, because I could see how a woman of her caliber could be distracting." It was my turn to not flinch as Fury eyed me curiously. But I refused to be intimidated by one man.

"Don't do her the disservice Fury," his eyes narrowed, "You and I both know her stats. And now that I've witnessed them first hand in the field, it seems obvious to me that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be making the biggest mistake of all to eliminate her instead of utilizing her known talents." I had to admit I was impressed by his answer. He didn't seem bothered at all that Fury had called his judgment into question because of personal feelings, especially considering the moments that were known by only us two.

"How dare you talk to your Director like that?" Agent Hill finally spoke up, only for Fury to silence her with the wave of his hand. He took a step towards Barton and the rest of us.

"You're not wrong Barton. S.H.I.E.L.D. would be damn lucky to have an agent like her. However, it's not her abilities that are in question." Fury bypassed Barton and stood in front of me. I'd long since removed my sunglasses, tucking them into my pants pocket. So we just stared at each other, neither set of eyes wavering or looking away. "Agent Romanoff I presume."

"You presume correctly," I said. I think he was mildly caught off guard when I spoke with a perfect American accent.

"Agent Barton is completely correct is implying that your file is impressive. Your abilities are known far and wide. You've made quite a name for yourself; unfortunately that name happens to be for the other side. How could S.H.I.E.L.D. ever possibly trust you when you've made your career and name in the blood of innocent people?" I twisted my head to the side in my playful manner, although my face was kept dead serious.

"With all due respect, you and I can both vouch for the fact that the majority of the people I've taken out weren't innocent."

"But you have killed innocents. That's not what we do here." Fury narrowed his eyes slightly, not used to being so freely challenged.

"Oh please, don't act like S.H.I.E.L.D. is above that either. Your agents have killed innocent people too. It comes with the job."

"The difference, Agent Romanoff, is when S.H.I.E.L.D. kills innocents, it's by accident. The Red Room, however, has a different story."

I glared daggers at him. "You don't know anything about the Red Room."

"You're exactly right Agent Romanoff, so why don't you enlighten me." I eyed him curiously, trying to figure out if he was serious. He waited patiently, eyes presenting the test.

"If you really wanna know: in the Room, it's kill or be killed. And when everyone is trained to be a cold-blooded killer who wouldn't think twice about snapping your neck or putting a bullet through your head, you get with the program or you die. I kill to survive." It was the harsh truth, but it was the truth nonetheless. I knew for a fact that half of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents wouldn't last a week in the Red Room. They trained hard-core assassins.

"And it's that kind of mentality that prevents S.H.I.E.L.D. from being able to trust you," Fury said simply.

"What, you mean the mentality everyone has in a life or death situation? Don't mistake the fact I'm not so different from the agents you already have."

"Except for the fact none of agents have allegiances to Russia. How do we know that we can trust you?" He asked. It was the question I'd been waiting for and that I'd thought a lot about. They had no reason to trust me. I was a Russian agent. I was known for playing elaborate games to carry out the hardest missions. For all they knew this could be one of my elaborate schemes.

I looked Fury dead in the eyes. "Because your agent is still alive, even though I could've killed him at six different openings in Spain, not counting the plane ride here."

Barton stepped back and decided to speak up again. "That's right Fury. She did have the chance…." He trailed off as he processed my words. "Really six times?" Barton looked at me in disbelief, trying to replay the mission over and over in his head to count up all six times. I looked at Fury, a smile spreading across my face slightly.

"My point," I said, couldn't help but feeling a little cheeky. Fury considered this while Barton regained his composure.

"Besides that Fury, she took a bullet to the arm after saving my life. Marius Belov was killing me. I knew I was dying and she took him out to save me. Look I know she has the rap sheet and we've always consider her the villain, but can't you see what an opportunity this is? She's one of Russia's best agents."

"I am Russia's best agent." I cut in.

"Is that so?" Fury asked. He made eye contact with someone behind me and I felt someone's arms wrap around me, holding me in place. This was so easy I actually laughed and shot him a look of disbelief. He just waited. If he wanted a show, I would give him one. I'd thoroughly looked the room over when we first entered and not counting Coulson, Hill, or Barton, there were five S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hanging about, and one of them was holding me.

I kept my eyes on Fury as I made my move. I swung my leg back and kicked the agent in the shin as hard as I could. It took him by surprise. I know I didn't look like much of a physical threat, but I was. I took my window of opportunity and elbowed him in the ribs. The agent audibly gasped in pain and took a step back. I took hold on his arm and pulled him forward just far enough to put my elbow to his head with enough force that he hit the wall just about a foot away. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

I turned as I heard the next agent starting to approach me. I stood still as he fast approached me, waiting until the perfect moment. When he was just the right distance away I flipped myself backwards, hands pressing into the floor, bringing my leg swinging up to kick him flawlessly in the face. I landed on my feet effortlessly as the third agent came at me. I dodged his punch and grabbed his arm and threw him into the wall behind me. He turned back around and came at me but I slid across the floor beside him, pulling his foot out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud. He'd have one hell of a concussion when he woke up. The fourth guy was behind me. I saw him coming as I threw the last guy down. I flipped backwards, wrapping my legs around his waist flipping him to the ground, while landing back on my feet, much like a cat was supposed to. I'd managed to take his gun out of the holster on his belt in the process, and immediately used the butt of the gun to hit the other guy in the head, leaving him momentarily out of it. I took the opportunity to throw one good punch that left him seeing stars as he fell backwards.

In one swift motion, I'd flipped the gun around and had it pointing at Fury. I felt the situation grow tense. Then, probably to everyone's surprise in the room with the exception of Barton, I discharged the gun and dropped it to the floor and stood there, staring Fury down. "That's how you know you can trust me."

"Well, I have to admit, I _am_ impressed, something that doesn't happen often. And you managed to do that with a hurt arm." He said. I'd almost forgotten about the bullet wound in my arm.

"I've fought with worse. The Red Room made sure of that." I think that caught everyone off guard with that. I knew as well as everyone in this room that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have much info on the Red Room. Its members were good at covering their tracks. It was how we were trained.

"Care to elaborate Miss Romanoff." I noticed he didn't call me Agent. I couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

"The Red Room puts all of its members through a week-long program to train them to fight through injury."

"And how did they accomplish that?" Fury asked with genuine curiosity. The habits of the Red Room were taboo to everyone except members.

"It's simple sir. Every day you get a new wound. You either complete the obstacle course with the wound, or you die." Everyone grew quieter than silent, and I didn't think that was even humanly possible. "Day one," I started, sensing Fury wanted me to elaborate, "stab wound to the side. Day two, two stab wounds, one to each side." I waved my hands around my sides for effect. "Day three, a bullet wound to the shoulder, day four, a bullet wound to the leg." I could tell they were all sickened by the obvious torture. "Day five a broken arm, day six, a broken leg." Fury's eyes had grown cold and hard on me as he listened to what would cause apparent suffering and anguish.

"And day seven?" He asked, and I could tell that even Nick Fury was afraid of what was going to leave my lips.

"A bullet to the stomach," I said, "It's by far the hardest one." My eyes had glazed over with memories. "You have to be quick or you'll bleed to death right there on the floor. And then you have to be fast enough to give them enough time to patch you up. I can't tell you how many kids I watched die."

"How old were you?" Maria Hill chimed in from behind me, catching my use of the word 'kids'. This time Fury didn't silence her, just waited for my response.

"I was thirteen years old. It was right before they started to send me on regular missions." I think it was this story that ultimately convinced Fury to let me stay. One, he realized I could give him intel on the Red Room that no one ever could before. Two, I don't think he could live with himself if he sent me back to that hell hole where death plagued you constantly and the metallic smell of blood was normal. He looked at me for a long time before nodding his head at Agent Barton.

"She can stay." I'd just worked my way into S.H.I.E.L.D., and I wanted to be excited for it, but I kept my face a mask clear of emotions. "Barton, she's your responsibility now. I hope you two like each other because you two are partners from now on. Barton, teach her the ropes." I scoffed at the idea. Fury looked at me interested.

"Please, I should be teaching him the ropes."

"Do tell, Agent Romanoff," he said, calling me 'agent' again, although this time I was his agent. I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Barton was sloppy. It was immediately evident he was tailing me." I said. Barton stared at me incredulously.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. She was obviously out of her mind. I wasn't sloppy. I was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents.

"Number one, you pointedly looked away as soon as I was close enough to see you, and focused on a group of birds I might add. At least pick something believable to stare at. Number two, you made a point to ask for directions to make yourself appear like a tourist, but you ignored the advice of the locals and took back roads that they didn't mention. Number three, you were trying to pass yourself off as a tourist, but you failed to do any touristy things. Number four; I could see you watching me through those sunglasses of yours. And five, you didn't check your scotch for drugs before you drank alone in your hotel room. It made it really easy to drug you. I could've easily killed you right then and there." I listen to her rattle off those things and felt embarrassed. Her attention to detail was accurate, almost perfect. No one would dare doubt that she was Russia's best agent. "But don't feel bad," she told me. "You were compromised the minute you were chosen for this mission. I recognized you immediately."

"You two knew each other before?" Fury's voice boomed off of every available surface in the room.

"No sir, we didn't. I don't know what she's talking about."

"Don't worry Director, I'm not surprised he doesn't remember it. I was younger and a lot more blonde." She held a piece of her red hair in between her fingers. "We first met five years ago in New York. I had just killed Sven Belov at his party. I was into theatrics back then, they made everything more interesting. So to raise the stakes a little, instead of taking the easy exit out, I actually inserted myself back into the party as the character I'd used to infiltrate it. I was only about seventeen at the time. I'd gone undercover as one of Beatrice Belov's friends." And that's when it clicked in my head.

"That was you?" I asked in pure disbelief. She smiled a grin that was all the answer I needed. "I got you out of that party. I rescued you."

"That's right Barton. You 'rescued' me and successfully led me out of the party. It was the perfect plan. That way if anyone would've recognized me, you would've never let them get close enough to harm an innocent. It was the best form of protection." My head was spinning from the revelation. I'd unknowingly helped the murder out of the scene of the crime. Maybe I was sloppier than I thought. Fury looked in between us.

"Fine then, Romanoff, teach Barton the ropes for all I care. What matters is that you're partners. You have each other's backs from now on, is that clear?"

"Yes Director Fury," Natasha said softly.

"Yes." I said back, irritated at my own stupidity. I couldn't believe this.

"Agent Hill, why don't you show Agent Romanoff around." Fury suggested. Hill reluctantly left the room with Natasha to show her around S.H.I.E.L.D. while I still fumed with anger over my mistakes. Natasha had looked even less comfortable with the situation, but I couldn't think about her right now. All I could think about was how I screwed up in New York five years ago, and that mistake could have easily cost me my life, but somehow it didn't, somehow she didn't. And just like that I was back to Natasha again.

"Don't feel bad Barton," Fury said, letting out a laugh as Coulson came forward towards me. "You were right: S.H.I.E.L.D. is damn lucky to have her. Good call, never do it again." His voice got serious at the end and I knew bad things would happen if I did. I nodded and followed Coulson out after being dismissed.

"Well it looks like your risk paid off this time Clint." Coulson said. "I don't know how you always manage to do that." I looked at Coulson.

"I just follow my instincts Phil."

"And your instincts led you to her." I droned Phil out as he gave me a speech on being more careful because Natasha could very well have killed me. I stopped listening though never gave away the fact that I wasn't. I was too focused on the first thing Phil had said. _Your instincts led you to her. Your instincts led you to her. Your instincts led to her._ They sure had, I thought, unsure of where our partnership would go from here. I had a feeling we were dangling from a tightrope with no net to catch us if we fell for each other. And the worst part was I was this close to falling, barely hanging on by a thread.


	7. Chapter 7: Save You

Finally, I'm updating. I probably won't get to update until the weekend with me going back to school. Sorry guys, my senior year school work is insane. But I will probably update Friday. :) So just hold in until then.

Musical Inspiration (also inspired the title of the chapter): Save you by Simple Plan

This covers the events of the movie. I know, not much new there, but it had to be covered at some point. :) But just think, now we can get into the vast unexplored territory that is Clintasha's future. So excited, so read and review and let me know what you think.

Chapter Seven: Save You

Natasha Romanoff

_Barton's been compromised_, the three words I'd thought I'd never hear in a million years, the three words that scared me the most. And when Phil Coulson said them to me over the phone that night, I physically felt my heart stop and my breath catch in my throat. How could Barton be compromised? How could Barton be compromised while I was here in Russia in a warehouse tied to a chair interrogating this load of idiots? A million similar thoughts rolled through my head in that millisecond before I knew I had to get out of there and get to Coulson. I needed to find him. "Let me put you on hold," I told Coulson, trying to keep a strong front.

As I fought my way out of the warehouse, I couldn't get his face out of my mind. By that point in time, we'd been partners for a while. And sure, while things got off to a rough start because neither of us had really worked with partners previously, we'd found our stride, and now we were an unstoppable team. We hardly ever did solo missions. We just weren't as good apart from one another, not to say that we were incapable of running solo missions, because we weren't. We just preferred working with each other. And it panicked me that I wasn't around to save him when it happened.

I sighed realizing that all the guys were down. "Do we know where Barton is now?" I asked after grabbing my black heels and walking towards the door. I needed Coulson to tell me what to do, where Clint was so that I could save him. I would do anything to get him back. And, as it turned out, Coulson was going to keep me to my word with his assignment for me.

At first I thought he was talking about Tony Stark. And as much as I detested the self-proclaimed "genius billionaire playboy philanthropist," I'd stomach a visit with him if it meant help in bringing Clint back to S.H.I.E.L.D.; however, I couldn't help but feel doubt in the plan. After what went down between me and Stark in the recent past, I knew Stark wouldn't trust me as far he could throw me, and I told Coulson so. And that's when I found out what he really meant for me to do and I froze.

I wasn't scared. The Black Widow was scared of few things. Not even death made me flinch, but Clint's did, so as much as I was nervous about going to retrieve the monster the world seemed to have forgotten, it was a needed risk, one that I was definitely going to take if it meant being that much closer to getting Clint back. So I hopped on a plane headed towards Calcutta.

_Doctor, we need you to come in…I'll persuade you_. It had been easier than I'd expected to get Dr. Banner to New York, of which I was glad. I'd been prepared to do things the hard way, but there'd been guarantees that I would've survived. The things I'd read about Banner doing…well let's just say they weren't for the faint-hearted. I kept on pins and needles as the S.H.I.E.L.D. backup team headed towards the airport with Banner and I in tow. While Banner had agreed to join me in New York, there was still that small chance he could change his mind. And that was something S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't afford, something _I _couldn't afford, something _Clint_ couldn't afford. Banner looked at me curiously in the car. "Nervous?" I looked up at him and put the mask over my emotions. I became unreadable in an instant.

I allowed a polite smile to cross my face and raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question."

"Oh Miss Romanoff, I have a reason to always be nervous. The question is what makes the infamous Black Widow famous?" He played a smile of his own. "Me?" I looked away. "It's ok," he said, "People that know about me usually are."

"That's not quite the reason Doctor." I didn't know why I was being so honest with Dr. Banner. I had no reason to trust him, and he had no reason to trust me. We didn't know each other. I usually kept unnaturally quiet in such situations, preferring to ignore all questions asked of me. But I felt compelled to tell him why I was nervous.

"But it has something to do with me." He recognized.

"I need you to come with me to New York." Banner looked at me and nodded, a confused glint taking over his eyes.

"And I agreed to, so why are you nervous?" I looked up at him beneath my red curls and dark lashes.

"I need you to not change your mind. No matter what happens, I need you to find that Tesseract. It's of grave importance."

"That's my understanding too. The world is in danger, but somehow I think it runs deeper for you. What kind of leverage do they have on you?"

I knew better than to tell him why I needed him to not change his mind. Whenever you give someone else unneeded information, it becomes a tool for them to use against you, but I looked into his eyes and I knew he wouldn't use it against me. Dr. Banner was a gentle soul, no matter what his other half was, and he wouldn't hurt anything or anyone. He was a doctor for a reason: he loved to help people. "They have one of our own."

"Someone close?" He furthered looking at me gravely. I looked back, my unfeeling face plastered for him to see. I was stalling, thinking about how I should answer that question. I needed a wording that didn't give away too much. My relationship with Clint had become complicated. On the surface, we were partners, friends even, but there was always something hiding below, threatening to expose itself. Clint and I had always had a connection. That much was obvious, but nowadays I'd found a deeper twinge of feeling for him. He'd gotten under my skin in Barcelona and I'd never gotten him out, not that Clint knew that. I couldn't tell him. It would make things harder for us, dangerous. I'd compromised him once, that first meeting in Barcelona. I refused to do it again.

"My partner," I said with a stone cold face. Banner nodded and took the hint not to investigate that partnership.

"Well, Miss Romanoff, let me assure you, you don't have anything to worry about. I'll help find the Tesseract. I'm not going to change my mind." I reached out and touched his hand, catching him by surprise. He met my eyes.

"Thank you," I said. "And Dr. Banner, I don't think you're a monster."

He'd grown weary. "That's because you've never met the other guy."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

_Is this love Agent Romanoff?_ Now that was an interesting question, one I couldn't exactly explore at the time Loki asked me. I didn't even bat an eyelash. It was the one time I'd been glad I'd grown up in the Red Room. It had been drilled into me not to show any emotion during an interrogation. _"Love is for children. I owe him a debt." _I dodged the question effectively while staring down the man, or demi-god that had taken Clint and put him under his control. He backed away from the glass he was trapped behind and beckoned me to tell him everything.

I wasn't stupid. I knew who Loki was, and I knew that to deal with the god of lies, I had to deal in truths to get what I wanted. But that didn't mean I had to tell him everything. I glossed over mine and Agent Barton's history in a mere couple of sentences. He flashed me an eerie smile. _"Your world in the balance and you bargain for one man." _While I might have been here to interrogate Loki for information on his plan, I was genuinely interested in what he had in store for Clint. And while Loki may not have realized how deep his statement ran with truth, he was right nonetheless. It didn't matter what was going on with the world. I would always bargain for the one man who bargained for me all those years ago in Barcelona. Regimes fell every day, but Clint, he was the one constant in my life, the one person who had my back no matter what. And that's what made Loki's next comments all the more painful.

I'd been compromised. But that part I could live with, although I had to admit, he'd taken me by surprise with the information he knew. I could've kept a straight face, but I could feel the climax of the interview approaching, so I let my eyes widen with visible shock and even a little fear. I needed Loki to believe me, so I let the smallest bit of genuine feelings slip in from their locked cage in the back on my mind. Clint had compromised me, but like I said before, I could live with that part. What Loki said next was the real showstopper. _"I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work. And when he screams, I'll split his skull. This is my bargain you mewling quim."_

"_You're a monster…." _My words had been part of the plan. I needed Loki to keep talking. That didn't make them any less true. I know that I had to be hurt and upset for the sake of my manipulation, but his words actually bothered me. They found their way into my core and rested there, bringing with them a heaviness that made it hard to breathe, a heaviness that began to suffocate me from the inside out. And the scariest thing of all was that he actually had the power to do it….

Loki had Clint, and we had Loki, so it shouldn't have been surprising when he showed up with Loki's other brainwashed minions. As I sat there, terrified, shaken up beyond belief from my run in with the Hulk, I couldn't think of anything other than how I could've easily died. Pain throbbed through my entire body from where I hit the metal structure I was now cowering behind. I surprisingly didn't think I'd broken anything, but there were definitely going to be scratches and bruises and things that were strained or pulled. I was trembling when I heard Fury's voice over my comm link. _"It's Barton! He took out our systems. He's headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?"_ I stopped breathing. I was met by silence on the other end of the comm link. I slowly gathered my senses and brought my trembling hand to my headset. _"This is Agent Romanoff, I copy." _I took slow deep breaths and hesitated. Clint. I had to find him, but he was still under Loki's control. That meant he wasn't my Clint. _My Clint_, I stopped breathing again when I realized what I'd said. My thoughts sputtered with defensive comebacks. Clint wasn't mine. That's not what I meant. Oh God, I thought, pull it together Romanoff. I took one more breath before pushing myself off the ground, heading towards where I knew Clint was.

I tried to prepare myself as I stealthily made my way through the helicarrier hallways. Clint wasn't himself, and he wouldn't hesitate to attack me, which meant I couldn't hesitate to attack him back. My breathing was coming in spurts that I desperately tried to quiet the closer I got to Clint's location. It was one thing to fight a villain, and even another to fight someone who you knew wasn't in control, but it was an entire thing altogether when that person was your partner, when that person was someone you cared about. And that's when I saw him up ahead. My heart immediately went out to him. But I knew what I had to do: I had to stop him in order to bring him home. I nodded with resolve and quickened my notoriously silent steps until I was right behind him.

The thing about being partners – or really the thing about me and Clint – was that we knew each other's presence so well. So he knew when I was right behind him and he pulled an arrow and whirled around prepared to shoot me. But the other thing about me and Clint was that we knew each other so well, and I saw it coming. I dodged the arrow and grabbed his bow, twisting it down. He kicked me backwards, but I didn't fall. I was always great on my feet. Clint often teased I should call myself the Black Cat as opposed to the Widow since cats landed on their feet almost as much as I did. God I had to stop thinking of Clint during this fight. If I kept letting the memories creep in, I'd never be able to take him down.

He swung his bow at me. I dodged it and swiftly kicked him back. I didn't want to hurt him; I just wanted to detain him until we could figure out how to get Loki out of his head. I grabbed onto the railings and swung down and around to the other side, pulling myself back up and catching Barton by surprise. I kicked him backwards, but he just stumbled a few steps back, all the while preparing to shoot another arrow at me. Shit, I was good at hand-to-hand combat, better than Clint, but when he had his bow and arrows, the outcome didn't always end in my favor. I grabbed another rail and swung myself over to the adjacent platform, but Clint easily followed me. He swung the bow at me multiple times, and while I easily dodged them, I wondered why he hadn't shot me close range with an arrow. All he'd have to do is send me sputtering backwards for a few seconds, just long enough to pull the arrow out and string it, and let's face it, when you're the World's Greatest Marksman, you can do that in a fraction of a second or two.

We'd gotten closer to each other and I grabbed one end of his bow: the string I found out as he pulled his end backwards, effectively jerking me forward until I hit my head against it. I was gonna feel that later. I didn't let go of the bow though, even though I probably should have. Clint effectively pushed me against the railing. I felt the rail press hard into my back as I battled to get Clint off of me. I kicked at me before successfully landing a hit, pushing him away. Now I had his bow. I whirled around in a defensive stance. Maybe, I could do this.

My heart sank as I watched him draw his knife. The stakes just got a hell of a lot higher. He came at me but I blocked him and kicked him back. He wasn't deterred and came at me with the knife again. This time I grabbed his arm and twisted it to the side. He cried out in agony, which sent a ripple of chills down my spine. I was effectively keeping him from using the knife until he tossed it into the air, easily catching it with his other hand. Shit. He came at me and I barely had enough time to duck below his swing. I tried to grab him to force the knife from his hand, but he held tightly and pushed me against one of the railing poles. I pushed us a few steps back where I wasn't against a solid structure. I was struggling to keep the knife away when I felt his hand in my hair. He pulled it back tightly, exposing my neck. I let out a groan as I saw the flash of silver near my head. Shit! Shit! Shit! The blade was inching closer to my skin as I struggled against his grip and failed. I slowly reached my head up enough to bite his arm. He grunted in pain as the knife finally fell from his hand. He tried to flip me but I land on my feet as always. In one swift moment, I pushed a lowered Clint into the railing, wincing slightly as I head his head collide roughly with the metal.

He slumped down the railings, moaning in pain. He tried to pull himself up on the railing but failed miserably, falling further to the floor. He looked down at the floor as I stepped closer to him, eyeing him cautiously and intensely. Finally he pushed himself to a crouched position and looked up at me. I met his eyes, searching for signs of Loki. He didn't look completely like the man I called my partner. Something was still off. "Tasha…." He finally managed to whisper. I immediately felt a shiver run down my spine at his voice. He always had a way of making me come undone when he said my name. I took a couple of deep breaths before hitting him as hard as I could, focusing all of my energy into my fist. It fell backwards, out cold. I sighed as I looked down on an unconscious Clint. He'd known me. He'd said my name. Even if he wasn't totally back to normal, he'd started to come back. I just hopped that second hit was enough to severe Loki's mind control altogether.

I sighed and turned away, taking a moment to rub my face in exhaustion. I was feeling shaky again. I needed to get it together. I took another breath before turning to look at Clint again. I switched my comm link on. "I'm gonna need some help on the detention level." I figure it'd be a while before I got a reply. Just because I had things settled down here didn't mean havoc wasn't being wreaked elsewhere on the helicarrier. But shockingly enough, Fury's voice boomed through the comm link.

"Romanoff, status," he demanded. I gave a small, grave smile as I realized he was checking to see if I was hurt.

"Agent Barton is down. I incapacitated him sir: he's out cold." I heard a sigh of what I thought was relief from the other end.

"Very good Agent Romanoff. I'll send the medic team. Stay there, do you copy?"

"Yes sir." With that, I leaned against the rail and prepared to wait.

Then the guys arrive to take Clint away, and that's when I got the news that left me reeling in silence.

"_Agent Coulson is down..."_ And they'd called it. I held my breath. Clint was going to take this the hardest. Clint. I needed to get to him. Whenever I woke up after being injured from the mission, Clint was always by my side, waiting for my eyes to flicker open. And I'd always done the same, no use changing things now.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

It had taken some time, but eventually Clint's eyes flickered open. He shook his head wildly. He was struggling, I could tell. _"Clint,"_ I said softly, _"you're gonna be alright." _

He squinted tightly. _"You know that?"_ He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes again, trying to will Loki away. He let out a doubtful laugh. _"Is that what you know?"_ I got up and walked behind him. _"I got…I gotta go in though. I gotta flush him out."_ I calmly poured a cup of coffee, hoping I appeared collected on the outside, because on the inside I was a mess. I was a mess because Clint was a mess. I needed him to be okay.

"_You gotta level out. It's gonna take time." _I told him quickly. I needed to do something that made me feel useful so I wouldn't think about how much of a mess I'd been reduced too.

"_You don't understand,"_ he sputtered. He was breathing really heavy. _"Have you ever had someone take out your brain and play? Take you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?"_ I'd listened patiently to everything he'd said, but that last part got me. I turned and looked at him quickly.

"_You know that I do." _I didn't like to talk about my past with the Red Room. Nobody should have to endure what I went through there, but coincidence it put me in the unique position to know exactly what Clint was talking about.

He leaned forward and looked down, taking deep breaths to help himself process everything. _"Why am I back? How'd you get him out?"_

I left the cup of coffee on the table where I'd poured it and moved to sit down beside Clint. "_Cognitive recalibration – I hit you really hard in the head." _

"_Thanks." _He said looking at me. I couldn't help but smile at him when I looked at him. I was just so relieved, so happy that he was back. I moved to undo his restraints._ "Natasha how many agents did I –" _

"_Don't," _I said, cutting him off, _"Don't do that to yourself Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for." _

"_Loki," _Clint sneered, _"he get away?" _

"_Yeah, don't suppose you know where?" _I waited patiently. He shook his head.

"_Didn't need to know. Didn't ask. He's gonna make his play soon though. Today." _

I'd walk to the door in as he talked, and when I heard the last part, I whirled around. _"We gotta stop him."_

Clint took a drink from the coffee I poured. _"Yeah? Who's 'we'?" _

I shook my head at him. "_I don't know: whoever's left." _I shrugged at him. He looked away from me.

"_Well, I... if I put an arrow through Loki's eye socket, I'd sleep better, I suppose." _He chuckled a bit and looked at the ground as I walked over to him. I sat down next to him, closer than I probably should've, but what could I say? Clint had his own gravity, pulling me towards him anytime we were around each other. I smiled and looked at him, looking at him from under my eyelashes.

"_Now you sound like you." _He smiled and looked at me. He was so amazing when he smiled.

His eyes grew serious. _"But you don't. You're a spy, not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?"_ My own face grew serious as I had a million thoughts fumble through my mind. What did I say to him?

"_He didn't, I just…." _What did Loki do to me? He took you. That's what I really wanted to say, but I knew I couldn't say that. Saying that would compromise me and Clint instantly.

"_Natasha…." _I was a controlled, reserved person. I never let my emotions get in the way. But if there was ever I time I was legitimately tempted to, it was now, hearing Clint whisper my name. I wanted to tell him everything in that one instant.

"_I've been compromised." _It was true in both ways. Clint had compromised me to Loki, but I'd also become compromised by my feelings for Clint. I would do anything to keep him safe, to keep him here with me. _"I got red in my ledger; I'd like to wipe it out." _I could tell by the look on his face that he didn't buy my excuse for one minute. But I wasn't giving him anything else, and we really didn't have time to discuss it right now. We had a demi-god to stop. And this time it was personal.

But I knew this conversation wasn't over, not by a long shot. Clint Barton wasn't one to forget….

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

After everything was over, after Loki had been caught, and taken back to his home planet, I was left wracked with guilt. Everything I did, everyone I hurt…all my memories were blurred. I couldn't get an exact read on anything I'd done under Loki's mind control, but it didn't take much imagination. I knew how lethal I could be, especially with my bow. The worst part was Natasha. I vaguely remembered fighting her, but I couldn't remember much about the fight. I mean, I know that she won in the end, a victory that was the effective force to driving Loki out of my head, but there was one thing I did remember about the fight: the instinct to kill her. I was going to kill her. She was in my way of accomplishing what Loki had wanted, and I wouldn't have hesitated to take her out in any way I could. And that scared the shit out of me. Nat, who'd been my partner for years, Nat who'd refused to kill me in Barcelona even though she'd had at least six times to do it, Nat, with her warm smile and green eyes and pale skin, soft to the touch, and fiery red hair that matched her inner fire, Nat, who I'd grown to care out over the years…probably more than I should've. The line between what I should do and what I wanted to do had always been blurred when it came to Natasha Romanoff, and now was no exception.

I wanted to apologize to her, but I didn't know how. I needed her to know everything, but I didn't even know where to start. How do you tell someone you love them when you weren't even sure when it happened yourself? I tried to think back over the years, tried to pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was in love with Natasha, but I couldn't find the exact moment. All I could find was a spectrum of missions, of moments, of feelings that I'd had for as long as I could remember when it came to me and Natasha. Even in Barcelona, I'd had some feelings for her, okay a lot of feelings – God, more feelings than I should've had. I tried to think of what to say to her as the entire team of 'Avengers' sat around the table eating shawarma, but I couldn't begin to find the right wording of anything.

So I just stared at her, and she stared back.


	8. Chapter 8: Talk to Me

So I've worked super hard Friday night and this early Saturday morning to get this done for you guys. I tried to get it finished sooner, but my school is killing me with the homework load. So this is Chapter 8. I hope you like it. Feel free to review and leave me a comment. :) The songs used for inspiration were both versions of Talk by Coldplay (because there are two versions).

I don't own the Avengers sadly. If I did, there would be definite Clintasha. But sadly, that isn't the case. :( So just read and enjoy. :)

Chapter Eight: Talk To Me

Clint

It hadn't been apparent when we'd been out, eating shawarma in the midst of a recovering New York, but now that they were alone, packing our stuff, I knew that something was off with Nat. She was _different_ somehow. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew it was there.

I was lounging on the white couch in the apartment she kept as a standby. Most of the time, we stayed on the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, but we both kept backup apartments in case of emergencies. With what S.H.I.E.L.D. paid us, we were perfectly capable. I watched as she walked around, gathering clothes and things she felt she needed to take with her to our new 'home'. But she was quiet. I mean Nat was always quiet, but this time it was different, wrong in a way. I got up and walked over to where she was actively smoothing a piece of clothing in the bag, pushing the wrinkles away. "Nat," I said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at me with a still face and withdrawn eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Her tone was perfectly even, the kind of unwavering pitch she'd perfected during her years at the Red Room. I was always impressed how she could manage to appear so devoid of emotion when I knew her emotional spectrum was right there, bubbling just under the surface, so close you could almost touch it.

"Don't lie to me," I whispered. She looked down before meeting my eyes again. "Is this about Stark?" While we'd been out and about, taking a lunch break while other New Yorkers refused to brave the rubble just yet, Tony had presented us with a unique proposal, one that caught all of us off-guard.

"_What did you just say?" I'd been the first to express my disbelief at his suggestion. Tony stared at me with that look that only he could manage. _

"_I thought I was pretty clear." He said, looking around at the others at the table. "We're like a thing now, a team of badass superheroes. All I suggested was us staying together in one place." _

"_Stark, I don't think that's a good idea," Banner said, quietly, looking down. _

"_Oh come on Doctor, you can't like being alone all the time," Steve said quietly, being the first to jump on the Iron Man train. _

"_Whether I like it or not is irrelevant. If I lost control, it's safer for me to be in secluded areas than in the crowded cities." _

"_You haven't had an incident in over a year!" Tony scoffed. _

"_That doesn't mean I can control it all the time. If something happened, I don't know if I could ever forgive myself." Everybody was silent after that. Tony was the first one to speak, looking at Banner with sincerity. _

"_Bruce, if you came and stayed with me, I'd work on finding a way to help you." _

_Bruce let out a scoff of his own. "You don't think that I've tried to find a cure. I've been searching for years Tony. It's not that easy." _

"_With all due respect Bruce, I'm not just anyone. I'm – " _

"_Yeah, yeah, we know: You're Tony Stark: genius billionaire playboy philanthropist," I chimed in. Tony glared at me. _

"_Well I am," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. _

"_The last time I lived in New York, I broke Harlem. What's next: Downtown?" _

"_What if I agree to beef up security at the Tower? Besides Doctor, with the equipment that I have access to in my lab, who knows what we can do," Tony said. "We can find that cure Doctor. I can feel it." _

_Banner was quiet for a long time, alternating looking down at the table and looking at Tony, carefully considering the offer and his options. He finally looked up and sighed, a small smile flashing briefly across his face as he looked at Tony. "Okay, I'll stay, but the first time something happens, even if it's small or no one gets hurt, the __**first**__ time something happens, I'm gone." _

_Tony threw his arms up in victory. "Yes." God, he could be such a child sometimes. I didn't know much about the billionaire, but I automatically knew what Natasha had meant when she'd been telling me about her time working as Stark's secretary. Natasha, I thought, looking over to her. She hadn't said a word. Even Thor had made some sort of noise after Tony's bizarre suggestion of us living together, but Nat was quiet. I would've expected some smartass comment from her, but she barely acknowledged that he'd said anything. She was just staring at everything and nothing in particular, slowly chewing her food. "What about you Cap," Tony ask, glancing over at Steve. _

"_I think it's a good idea. Tony's right guys, we're a team now. It only makes sense to stay together, that way if something happens, we're all there, ready to save the world again." _

_The three of them looked towards Thor. "I must return to Asgrad." They nodded, knowing that it was bound to occur at some point. "But when I return to your planet, I shall reside in your tower." He followed up. That was four down, two to go, I thought as they turned towards Nat and I. _

"_What about you two?" Tony asked, motioning at both of us. I looked at Natasha, who now focused in on Tony for the first time. _

"_You want us to come stay at your tower? It got pretty damaged during the battle." She mumbled. I should've known then, but I thought maybe it was just exhaustion. The battle had taken its toll on everyone. _

"_The plans have already been drawn up to fix that Spidey. If that's all you're worried about…" Tony trailed off momentarily. "There are plenty of rooms that weren't touched by Loki or his alien crew." _

_She glanced over at me, trying to read my feelings on the issue. Truth be told, I didn't know much about the other Avengers excluding Natasha. I'd been under Loki's control for the majority of the time this team had been assembled. But if Nat thought it was a good idea, then I'd go along with it. She understood exactly what I was thinking from the look on my face and nodded slightly, turning back to Tony. "Come on Spidey, you have to admit this is a good idea. What could go wrong?" He asked, a smug look on his face. _

_Natasha frowned Tony could really get on her nerves sometimes. I knew that and I'd seen minimal interaction between the two. "Everything," she said in a low voice with a deadly straight face. I had to admit, she was intimidating, and I'd had years to get used to it. Tony managed to keep a neutral face, but his eyes betrayed him. Eyes always gave people away. She looked back at me, and I shrugged at her. It was her choice. I wouldn't agree to it without her. She thought about it for a minute before turning back to Tony. She sighed heavily before glancing at Tony with a serious and straight face. "We're in." _

Natasha shook her head and gave me and incredulous look. "No, of course not," she sighed, "If I didn't think staying at Stark Tower was a good thing, I wouldn't have agreed to it."

"Then what's wrong, and don't say nothing's wrong, because I can tell Nat. I know you, and I know when something's wrong." She sighed, something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately and made her way to the couch, plopping down on it, throwing her bag to the floor. I moved to sit down beside her. I put my head in my hands for a moment before looking at her, waiting patiently.

"I just…it's…complicated." She finally said. She looked down, refusing to meet my eyes.

"You know you can tell me anything," I said, almost whispering it. She looked at me finally, a small smile on her lips and a sadness in her eyes.

"Yeah, I know."

"So what aren't you telling me now?" I felt the inner need to find out what was wrong with Natasha. I needed her to be okay. She stared at my face, her eyes the holders of a million mysteries, a million secrets, a million tragedies gained over years of ordered bloodshed. In reality, there were probably a lot of things that she hadn't told me. I knew there were still things I hadn't told her, like how her voice sounds like endearing bells ringing gently in my ears when she speaks or what a beautiful smile she has, its rarity making it even more spectacular.

She shifted towards me and opened her mouth to speak. "Okay," she said softly. She was going to open up and tell me. I inadvertently shifted closer to her, taking one of her hands in mine and giving it an encouraging squeeze. To be honest, I'd never seen Nat this disturbed or bothered by something before. She was usually the perfect example of calm, cool, and collected under any stressful circumstances.

"Nat, what's got you all worked up?" My eyes never left hers. She opened her mouth, but before she could utter a single syllable, her cell phone went off. She answered it, still watching me.

"Romanoff," she said in her business voice. She rolled her eyes and gave a frustrated groan. "Stark, does it look like we're there yet?" I couldn't help but give a silent chuckle. "We'll get there when we get there Tony!" She was exasperated. I gave her hand another squeeze, and she looked back to me, a comforted look in her eyes. This was soon replaced by a death glare at something Tony said. "We'll be there soon." I could hear Tony still talking when she ended the call. She stood from the couch, dragging her hand away from mine in the process. She zipped her bag up and slung it over her shoulder. "We should get going before he has a conniption." I nodded, knowing that she knew our conversation wasn't over. She had to know I wouldn't let this go; I never did when it came to her.

I moved towards the door, holding it open for her. She crossed the room too, before stopping, her eyes lighting up with something she'd forgotten to pack. She motioned for me to wait for just a second as she walked to the kitchen, opening one of the mostly empty cabinets. She pulled out a bottle of something, but I quickly recognized the clear liquid. "Wouldn't wanna forget this," she mused, tucking it into her bag.

"Yeah, definitely don't forget that." It was a joke of sorts between Natasha and I about her 'precious' Russian vodka, her first and foremost drink of choice. I smiled at her as she flipped off the lights in her apartment and let me close the door behind her. We exited the building and found our way to my car in the darkened cityscape of New York, who had slowly begun rebuilding itself after the attack. The night air was cold as it weaved its way gently all around us. But it was nothing compared to the cold feeling I'd felt when she'd pulled her hand away from me, its absence throwing off my center of balance. But I couldn't think about that now. She threw her stuff in the backseat, next to mine as I started the car. She got in the passenger seat and looked over at me. "Ready?" I asked her. This was her last chance to back out. She nodded at me, and I was pretty sure I could make out a small grin of sorts in the darkened car. With that, I drove away and headed towards Stark Tower.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

Clint knew, but then again, I shouldn't have been surprised. Clint always knew. It was one of the reasons he was my best friend. I'd been trying to hide it, and no one else seemed to notice, but then again, none of them knew me like Clint. Clint and I had a complicated past to be sure, especially considering the fact that our first meetings revolved around missions and murder, especially considering that the first time he knew he was meeting me was the mission where he was sent to kill me. There were so many twists and turns in our relationship from Barcelona to Bolivia to Budapest. _Budapest_, that was complicated in its own right. We'd had each other's backs, taken bullets for one another, saved one another, yelled and fought, shared innermost pieces of ourselves with each other over the years…we were connected in most senses of the word. It was the other senses that lingered under the surface…at least for me. And I knew Clint knew that I was hiding something from him, but I don't think he'd ever expect that. I couldn't tell him. How do you tell your partner that you love him when all that would do was put a bigger target on his head? I could never risk Clint's life. It was one thing to risk mine by having feelings, but his was more important.

I knew our conversation was far from over. Clint was a persistent person. He wasn't going to stop until he knew exactly what was bothering me. I would just have to think up a better excuse before that time came. Because, under no circumstances could Clint know what was really getting under my skin: him. I was relieved when he didn't push the subject in the car, focusing instead on the radio music as I watched New York from the window. Eventually Stark Tower came into view, and I couldn't help but shake my head in admiration for the billionaire. "Wow, Stark sure doesn't waste any time," Clint mumbled. Stark Tower, which had been heavily damaged during the battle against the Chitauri and Loki, was almost completely fixed. Tony had really outdone himself this time.

"I guess not." I mumbled back as we neared the building. Tony was standing outside waiting when we pulled up. "Been waiting long?" I sarcastically said, tilting my head to the side.

"Oh not really, I had JARVIS on the lookout. He was monitoring traffic light cameras." Tony said easily. I rolled my eyes. Clint leaned over where he could see Tony.

"Where do you want us?"

"Oh yeah, you can park in the garage," Tony said, pointing towards an open area. "I'll meet you over there." He said, waving Clint on. Clint drove into what turned out to be a massive garage with several fancy cars already parked. I wasn't surprised. Tony Stark was not one for modesty. Clint pulled into the nearest available parking spot and cut the engine.

"Well here we are," he said, opening his door and getting out. I did the same, pulling my bag from the back seat. I'd just slung it over my shoulder when Tony appeared.

"Is that really all the stuff you brought?" He eyed our light bags.

"We're master assassins. It's not like we have a lot of down town Stark," Clint joked. I stared pointedly at him.

"When you're in the business of killing people, you never need to get too grounded. You could easily have to move to protect yourself or your cover." I wasn't trying to be a bitch even though I was probably coming off that way. It was just the truth. I'd learned that the hard way in the Red Room. Our profession suffocates our personal life. We didn't get the privilege of having roots.

"Well, Miss Sunshine," Tony said, raising his eyebrows at me, "that's about to change. I can't think of a safer place for a pair of assassins than Avengers Tower."

"What did you call it?" Clint asked. "I thought it was Stark Tower?"

"Yeah, well after Loki's big showstopper," he wiggled his fingers around for effect, "My tower was pretty wrecked. However, one little letter did manage to survive the scuffle: the long 'A'." Tony pointed upward to where the top of the tower boasted the single letter. "I felt inspired to change the name, considering we're a team now and everything. Plus, Pepper suggested it would make everyone feel more at home here." He added that last part quieter, glancing anyway. I smiled. He was probably irritated that Pepper came up with that and not him. "Anyway, let's get out of the cold and see our new home." Tony turned and walked towards the entrance to the Tower, Clint and I close behind him.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

Everyone was already there and settled, with the exception of Thor, who had to take Loki back to his home planet. Good riddance, I thought. Steve and Bruce were lounging in the living room with Pepper when we walked in. "Natasha," Pepper smiled when she saw me and got up from her seat to embrace me. I tensed at first before relaxing my muscles and hugging her back. I didn't really do the hugging thing often.

"Be careful Pepper, Spidey's got a killer right hook among other things." Tony said. Pepper shot Tony a death glare of her own before turning her eyes to Clint.

"Pepper, this is my partner at S.H.I.E.L.D.," I said as Clint stepped forward and offered a hand. Pepper took it and shook it.

"Agent Clint Barton," he said.

"Nice to meet you Clint," she smiled warmly, "In case you didn't know me, my name is Pepper Potts."

"You need no introduction Miss Potts. I hear you're the only reason anything gets done around here."

"Hey!" Tony called as he sat down in a chair.

Pepper smiled and winked at Clint. "You heard right."

Doctor Banner and Steve stood up and moved to greet us. I couldn't help but smile inwardly. They were always so polite. I kept my face relaxed and then stood there, unsure of what to do next.

"Tony!" Pepper exclaimed.

"What?" Tony asked from his seat on the couch. He was watching some show on the big screen television.

"Aren't you going to show Clint and Natasha to their rooms?!" She shook her head. Tony looked up at her and let his eyes widen in realization.

"Aw, yes, I almost forgot," he said standing. "Let me show you to your rooms." He rolled his eyes as he made his way to the elevator. We followed close behind him.

"I saw that!" Pepper called after him as we stepped on. When the doors were safely closed, he stuck his tongue out.

"You're such a child," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"I can't help it. That woman brings it out in me." He said, smiling warmly to himself. Then he turned to Clint and I. "So the layout of Avengers Tower," he started. "Basically you two get to share a floor. Everyone else has their own, but I figured with you two being partners, you'd wanna be close to each other." He was implying something, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of reacting. The elevator stopped on our floor and we stepped out.

The floor was nicely furnished. The far end of the floor held an elaborate kitchen set up, complete with a table for eating. The kitchen melded into the living room. There was a long white couch and plush carpet, complete with a small dangling chandelier and flat screen television. There were a couple of chairs around a pair of white drapes and a bookcase in the corner. I moved down a hallway. There were two bathrooms, each adjacent from one another, a laundry room, and even a mini-gym. I raised an eyebrow at him. "There's a bigger gym on the 63rd floor," he said matter-of-factly as we kept moving. There was an empty room that Tony said he didn't know what to do with, so we could decide what to do with it. At the other end of the floor were our bedrooms. They were directly opposite one another. I took one and Clint took the other.

I went into my room and set my bag down on the bed. I looked around taking in the large bed and soft pillows. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue and there were nightstands on both sides of the bed as well as an awfully large closet and dresser. A television was mounted on the wall and a full length mirror was placed in the corner. I nodded and wondered back out into the hallway where Tony and Clint were waiting. "So what do you think?" Tony asked.

"It's everything I would expect from you Tony," I said, looking around.

"Thanks for inviting us to stay here," Clint said, looking around like me.

"No problem Legolas," he said. Clint turned his attention back to Tony at the nickname. I repressed a laugh. "Well I'll leave you two to get settled. I'll send someone up to get you when dinners ready. I thought we'd all eat together tonight since it's the first night in the tower for everyone. One big happy family," He smirked as he got on the elevator to go down.

We didn't really unpack much. We would have plenty of time to do that later. I did shower and change into a simple pair of jeans and T-shirt. I came out of my room with my damp hair pulled into a short ponytail. Clint was sitting on the couch dressed in a similar outfit. I took a seat next to him and pulled my knees close to me, wrapping my arms around them. He had the TV on, but promptly turned it off and looked at me. "Nat, what's going on with you?" He asked, bringing up our previous conversation. Damn! I hadn't come up with a good enough excuse yet. I looked blankly at him unsure of what to say. He waited and I knew he wasn't going to let this go until I told him something.

"Before this happened, I was in Russia on mission." I said. I didn't know what I was going to say yet, but I figured I could buy time by starting at the beginning.

"Yeah, I remember. You were going in to get information." He said.

"I was in the middle of gathering that information. They thought they were interrogating me, but really it was the other way around. I was in the middle of getting what S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted when I got a phone call." I knew it didn't take much to figure out what phone call I was talking about. Clint wasn't stupid by any means. He looked down. "Do you know what it did to me to hear Coulson say those three words?" They burned in my mind even now. I would probably hear them for the rest of my life, the emotional ties to it enough to keep it etched in my memory. "Barton's been compromised," I whispered into the space between us. I turned to look at Clint who was watching my masked face curiously. I let pieces of it crack, feeling a sadness creep into my eyes. "I have never been so scared in my entire life Clint." I knew he wanted to say something, but words failed him. "And then I had to fight you, but you weren't you. I could've killed you Clint. You could've died. I could've died." I could feel my lips quivering slightly, but I refused to cry. The Black Widow didn't cry.

"Nat," he whispered, scooting closer to me. He took my hands in his and squeezed them. "I'm right here. I mean yeah I could've died and you could've too, but we could've died a lot of times. But you know what, we're still here. Don't let it get to you. You never have before, don't start now."

"It was different this time Clint." I removed my hands from him, ignoring the pang I felt as I did so. I turned my head in the other direction. We were close to each other, too close. I could feel myself being pulled into his gravity. I needed to stop it before something happened we couldn't undo.

"Why?" He asked gently. I closed my eyes and turned back towards him.

"Because you're my best friend," I said. "Look, I know I don't say it a lot, but you're the best friend I've ever had, and I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to you. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" I said, getting frustrated with myself. I could feel my guards lowering and my façade cracking. I struggled to keep it together. With anyone else, I didn't have any problems hiding my emotions, but Clint wasn't anyone else. I could feel my shoulders shaking slightly.

"Hey, come here," he said, scooting even closer and enveloping me into a hug. Like I said before, I didn't really do the hug thing, but as Clint Barton sat there with his arms around me, I allowed myself to melt into the feeling of his touch. I had managed not to shed any tears, but I couldn't last much longer if I was going to have to make any more emotional confessions. We pulled away and stared at each other. We were too close, way past too close. I held my breath as I watched him start to lean closer to me. I didn't dare move. My heart was beating loudly and quickly. I could hear it pumping in my ears. He moved closer and closer and time got slower and slower. Our lips were looming near each other. Another second and we would cross a line that would forever blur our relationship.

And that's when the elevator dinged. I pulled back quickly, putting space in between us in the seconds before the doors opened to reveal Steve. I was still holding my breath. "Hey guys, sorry to bother you," he smiled awkwardly, "but Tony wanted me to come tell you it was time for dinner." I nodded at him and he turned to stumble back into the elevator.

"Yeah, we'll be there in just a second," Clint said as the elevator doors closed on Steve. Once Steve was gone, I finally sharply exhaled. I turned to look at Clint. He looked back. Then I stood up and walked towards the elevator, pressing the button for it to come back up once Steve was gone.

"We should get down to dinner." I said, quickly. Clint stood from his place too.

"Yeah before they start to miss us."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

Oh shit. What did I just do? What did I just do? How could I do something so stupid? I can't believe I tried to kiss her. I don't know what I was thinking. And the look on her face was enough to make me wriggle in discomfort. I can't believe I put us into this situation.

Oh shit. What the fuck did I just do?


	9. Chapter 9: A Moment

Sorry guys. I wanted to get this finished last night, but I got so tired that the things I was typing weren't making any sense. So I had to wait until today. So this is Chapter Nine! And I'm really excited about the turn the story is going to take in the upcoming chapters. Um..there wasn't much musical inspiration for this chapter. Just Say Yes by Snow Patrol was the only one. So I hope you guys enjoy Chapter Nine. Read and Review :)

P.S. I don't own the Avengers.

Chapter Nine: A Moment

Natasha Romanoff

What the hell just happened? I replayed the situation in my head over and over trying to reach a definite conclusion as I stepped onto the elevator. I waited a few seconds, looking up at nothing in particular, wondering if Clint was waiting to catch the next elevator. He finally stepped on just as the doors started closing. The elevator ride was silent. I could feel his eyes every few minutes as he glanced over at me. But I gave him no indication of what I was feeling. My face was smooth and neutral with no tells of the wild rollercoaster I was on inside my head.

He tried to kiss me. It took an excessive amount of force and self-control to keep my breathing quiet and even when I was on the verge of hyperventilating. I was equal parts excited and confused and scared. On one hand, I could feel my heart beating in my ears with adrenaline. There was a part of me that had wanted him to kiss me, even _needed_ it. But there was the other part that was frightened by the implications of what had just happened. Why exactly had he tried to kiss me? Did he really care about me the way I secretly felt for him? Or was it just a fluke, an action that had only come about because of the overtly emotional state I'd been in? I didn't know what to think about it, other than a tad bit of relief. I was almost glad that we didn't kiss. If we crossed that line, we'd both forever be compromised. I'd seen Clint compromised once; I wasn't in any hurry to see it again.

The ride down seemed longer than usual, with each second painfully dragging out in the quiet around them. I could tell Clint wanted to say something, but I could see he didn't know what to say. So he wanted me to say something, but I just couldn't yet. If I opened my mouth to speak, who knew what would come out? Finally the doors opened and we stepped onto the floor Tony had designated for the main living spaces. It included a large living room, an outstandingly modern kitchen, and a cozy dining room. I had no doubt that Pepper had helped Tony with the decorating. Her sense of personality filled the space around us. I couldn't help but smile as I moved to join the others around the large mahogany table. Pepper's smile was bright and warm, just like it always was.

I took my normal seat next to Bruce, who'd become one of my closest friends. Back in the Russia, I'd never really had friends. The Red Room wasn't exactly the most appealing environment for fostering friendship. For all you knew, you could be battling your so-called friend the next day in a death match. In the profession of assassination, it was just easier not to form attachments. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was a little different, and in New York, I'd found some roots, or the closest thing an assassin could have to that. And I'd bonded with the entire team. Bruce and I bonded over troubled pasts and now, he would talk to me about science and I would help him run his experiments with gamma rays. Steve was an all-around sweet guy. We had many sparring matches in the gym, and I tried as often as I could to try and bring him up to speed with the modern world. Thor, though I didn't get to see him as much, was a very loyal and affection guy at heart, and we had a strong brother-sister type of relationship. I absolutely adored Pepper and admired her strength. After all she had to put up with Tony. Tony, what can I say, I'd even grow to care somewhat about the arrogant billionaire. Don't get me wrong: he was still a pain in my ass the majority of the time, but I knew that Stark had my back and as much as I couldn't belief it, I now had his too. And then there was Clint…me and Clint…well we were…us.

Bruce smiled at me before turning back to his conversation with Steve. I felt Clint sit down beside me. Tony, the ever observant genius he was, raised an eyebrow at us, immediately noticing something was off. He'd been leaned back in his chair, resting lazily like _always_, but now, after flickering his gaze in between me and Clint, he shifted forward in his chair, placing his hands on the table. "Well Spidey, it's nice enough for you and Legolas to finally join us. We were getting a little worried you two weren't coming down. Anything _interesting_ going on up there?"

Everyone looked at Tony. Pepper lightly hit his arm. I couldn't help but notice a light blush creeping up on Steve's face at the hidden message apparent in Tony's statement. I turned my head slightly and raised an eyebrow at him. "Tony," I said, blinking a couple of times, "As much as I love you taking an interest in my life, I hate to disappoint you, but today has been just another normal day." I let sarcasm flow from my mouth easily, rolling my eyes after concluding my statement. He gave a nod and let the subject rest, but I could see it in his eyes that he hadn't given up his line of thinking. He knew something was up with me and Clint, and knowing Stark, he wasn't going to stop until he found out what. _Shit…_ I thought. I'd have to find a way out of this.

I didn't look at Clint, but I knew he was as neutral as I was. No one should be able to tell a thing. No one could infer that we'd almost crossed a line, but somehow I knew that it was our neutral behavior that tipped everyone off that something was different. I held in a sigh as dinner was served, instead filling my mouth with a bite of food.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

Dinner progressed normally, and after a few minutes, Natasha relaxed and become her normal self, which eased the slight underlying tension between us. Everyone else seemed to relax at that too. Natasha and I rarely fought, or at least fought in ways where it wasn't resolved in five minutes. And usually it was a very public fight in front of the rest of the team, never a private fight that we pretend didn't happen. And we didn't actually fight. We'd just…almost kissed. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but I knew it was.

I was itching to finish this group dinner where Nat and I could at least talk about what happened. That always fixed everything with us. It seemed to take twice as long as it usually did. Everyone was comfortable and joking with each other in their normal friendly matter. I joked around too, mostly with Tony, but it was mostly an act. I was incredibly nervous. I couldn't read Tasha. Usually, I was one of the few who could successfully read her, tell what she was feeling or thinking, but now, she'd locked me out of her head, kept her emotions in check better than I'd ever seen her before.

Finally dinner was over and the plates had been cleared. Everyone stood and moved towards the living room to hang out. I lingered behind, hoping Natasha would catch my drift. She started walking towards the living room, ignoring the fact that I was standing right behind her. "Natasha," I whispered, forcing her to stop. She turned around and looked at me with a guarded face. She waited for me to speak again. I didn't say anything. I just stared at her like I was dumbfounded, which I was. I didn't know what else to say.

"What?" Her eyes bugged out in irritation. I opened my mouth to say something, but I still hadn't found my words. We stared at each other for a long while. Eventually we heard Stark's voice from the living room.

"If you two don't join us soon, I'm gonna think something's going on between you two!" Natasha promptly turned and entered the living room with a death glare plastered on her face for Tony. I stood there a moment longer before following Nat's lead and entering the living room. Natasha had taken a seat next to Bruce and Steve and was staring off into space, ignoring whatever smartass remark Stark was making now. Pepper patted a space on a separate couch for me to join her, so I did. Pepper was always so inviting. It was one of the reasons she and Stark for perfect for each other. They were complete opposites. I shook my head, shaking off my thoughts and began to try and enjoy Tony's conversation. Then I realized it was _Tony_, and promptly tuned him out too. I tried to think of other things, but my thoughts always came back to _her_. I couldn't quite shake the image of spectacular green eyes when a cell phone ringing finally dissolved the shining specks of her irises. I blinked rapidly and looked around the room to find everyone's eyes on me.

"Oh," I said, realizing it was my phone ringing. I pulled it open. "Barton," I said with the best manner of professionalism I could manage. It was our handler.

"Barton, I need you and Romanoff to come in. Fury's got a mission for you." I looked to Nat and nodded. She stood wordlessly, knowing exactly what that meant.

"Where?" I was known for asking the needed questions. He told me the place and I tried my best to keep a calm expression, but I know it faltered slightly. Natasha immediately picked up on it and cocked her head to the side a little bit in wonderment. Still no words left her mouth, no expression crossed her features. She was just Natasha, the ex-Russian agent, the girl the Red Room trained to be emotionless, a task they'd succeeded in perfectly. She could turn her emotions off with the snap of the fingers. "Okay, we'll be there soon." I hung up, and having stood, began walking to the door. Natasha was in step with me without a sound as we headed for the elevator.

We didn't much on the way to our floor. Natasha asked basic details about the mission, but there wasn't much for me to tell her. I didn't know anything. He said he'd brief us when we got there. "Do you at least know where we're going?" It amazed me that Natasha and I could be mad or upset or even weird with each other, but the moment that we had a mission, she acted like nothing had ever happened. She was the perfect picture of professionalism, the ideal partner. But I knew my next answer would trip her up, especially considering the awkward moment that was sitting in between us like an elephant in the room. I couldn't help but look at her when I said it.

"Paris." Her eyes widened slightly in shock. I'd broken her emotionless façade just a little bit, which secretly made gave me an inner pleasure. I always enjoyed pushing her buttons and getting a reaction. I drove her crazy some times, and I knew I did. I couldn't help it though. I needed to know that she could still show emotion deep down somewhere, especially when it came to us. The last time we were in Paris was…complicated to say the least, but it seems everything always is with Nat and me, so I shouldn't have been surprised. I saw her squirming under my gaze.

"Paris?" She almost stuttered. I'd never known Natasha Romanoff to stutter, and that thought alone brought a smirk to my face.

"Paris." I raised my eyebrows at her and waited for her to say something else. I thought back to our last mission in Paris, and I couldn't help but smile. Natasha glared at me, as if guessing my exact thoughts. I shrugged at her. It happened, and eventually she was going to have to accept that. The elevator door opened and she stalked away towards her room where she stored her weapons. We kept bags pre-packed so that we didn't have to waste time when a mission presented itself. She grabbed her bag of guns and knives and her bag of clothes, while I grabbed the one stowing my bow and plenty of arrows and my clothes. Each with our bags slung over our shoulders, we exited the Tower and headed for S.H.I.E.L.D. in my car.

I noticed from the corner of my eyes that Natasha was fiddling with her hands. I smiled. "You know, if you keep fidgeting like that, and someone's gonna think you're nervous about going back to Paris. What, afraid you won't be able to trust yourself?" She glared daggers at me. Paris always made Natasha nervous, which is why she hated me bringing it up. We were the only two people who knew exactly what went on in Paris, and for Natasha, that was two people too many.

"Stop bringing it up Barton." She said coolly. I was really starting to get under her skin. I threw my free hand up in defeat as we pulled into the parking lot of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base in New York.

"Okay, fine, but just because we don't talk about it doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"Shut up Barton!" She managed through gritted teeth. I didn't bring up Paris anymore, instead choosing to live another day. We got out and walked to where our handler was waiting for us.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

I was tired of Clint bringing up Paris. He did it just to piss me off because he knew it bugged me. I walked ahead of Clint, ignoring him, instead giving our handler a somewhat warm smile. He'd never replace Phil Coulson, who had come to be a father figure in my life, the only one I could ever remember really. My heart still ached with his loss, and I knew Clint's did too, but that wasn't our new handler's fault. It was Loki's. Our new handler's name was Maurice Belmont, who was decently good at his job. There was nothing particularly spectacular about Maurice, nothing that warranted a long winded discussion of him. He was just Maurice, our handler. Neither Clint nor I had made any attempt to get closer to Belmont. It wasn't anything personal. We just still missed Phil. And the loss of Phil demonstrated the point that the Red Room had hammered into me so long ago: forming attachments was dangerous. People that you grow to care about become targets; they become weaknesses that make you an easy target. It never ends well.

Maurice handed me a file as I approached him. "Natasha," he said cordially, "as beautiful as always I see." I thanked him and kept walking towards Fury's office. I could hear Clint and Maurice behind me and the shuffling of paper as Clint already began flipping wildly through his folder. I stood in Fury's doorway, meeting his eyes when he promptly looked up at me. "Romanoff," he said, nodding towards an empty chair in front of his desk. Clint followed and plopped down in the chair next to me, shooting Fury a serious look. Maurice stood quietly behind us. "Barton," Fury acknowledged.

"Director Fury sir," he acknowledged back. Clint and I focused our attention halfway between Fury and the files as we flipped them open.

"Okay agents," he started, "this should be a pretty routine mission. I'm sure you two can handle it. Your target is arms dealer Fredrick Laclare." Laclare's picture was on the first page of the file along with the basic information about him including birthdate and hometown and details of the sort. I'd memorize those later. "He's in Paris for an auction, which involves him selling off his new products to the highest bidder. Bidders for the prize include some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and America's biggest enemies. We need you to get in, eliminate the target, get the weapons, and get out. Got it?" He glared at us. I looked at his gaze with unintimidated eyes. Fury still didn't scare me after all these years, and I was damn sure gonna make sure he knew that.

Fury was right about one thing. This did seem like a routine mission. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, I thought, as I scanned the folder. Clint didn't say anything either as he flipped through page upon page of information about Laclare. I closed my file promptly, "Got it." Clint looked up and nodded at Fury.

Fury had a small smile that only Fury could make. "Good. You leave now." I wasn't surprised by this. Neither was Clint. This was often Fury's tactic. We silently stood and followed Maurice as he led us towards S.H.I.E.L.D.'s personal air terminal. There was a plane on the runway waiting for us to board.

"This is where we part I'm afraid," Maurice said, setting a hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and nodded. "Be careful," he mumbled.

"Aren't we always?" Clint cheekily said. I shot him a look. Maurice turned to look at me.

"I'll keep him in line," I assured him. Maurice couldn't help but laugh.

"Good, someone has too. What an altruistic job you have!" He said.

"Hey!" Clint called, offended that we would talk about him like that right in front of his face. I shot him a look and turned back to Maurice.

"We'll be careful, I promise." I told him before grabbing Clint by the arm and pulling him behind me to the plane.

I took a seat towards the front of the plane after stuffing my bags in the overhead compartment. I had just started to relax when I felt Clint plop down in the seat right beside me. I let my eyes slowly and devilishly roll over to look at him. "Do you have to sit so close?"

He ignored my comment, a serious look embedded on his face. "Nat, we need to talk." Shit. He had me cornered on a plane. There was nowhere to run and no place for me to hide from the conversation I knew we had to have at some point. Why did it have to be now, when we were on our way to Paris? Paris of all places?!

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

I had finally found the words to talk about what happened. And as much as I knew Natasha wanted to dodge this conversation, she couldn't go anywhere. The plane had already taken off. We were suspended in the air and she couldn't get to the parachutes before me. So she was stuck. I'd entrapped the great Black Widow. I tried not to look smug at that thought, instead keeping my serious face for the conversation, because after all, it was a serious conversation.

"Talk about what Clint?" She sighed, pretending to not know what I was talking about. I really wasn't in the mood for her games right now. I needed direct answers from her and I was determined to get them.

"You know damn well what Natasha! Our 'almost-kiss'," I threw my hands around exasperated, "Stop acting like it didn't happen!"

"Is that what you're calling it?" I felt the sarcastic grin on her face. Then she let her eyes fall to the floor in the silence. "I never said it didn't happen," she quietly said. I felt bad for magnifying my tone now. I looked at her.

"So are we gonna talk about it?" I asked. I wasn't sure what to say beyond bringing up the subject of talking about it. I didn't know how to elaborate on the incident.

"What's there to talk about?" She asked. She sounded tired and looked weary.

"The fact that we almost kissed?" I looked at her shockingly. "Are you kidding me? Were you there tonight when everything went down? Or was that some other red-head that looked exactly like my partner?"

"There's no need to shout Clint."

"I'm sorry Nat, but you're acting like what happened didn't –"

"Almost happened," she quickly corrected, "And Clint, I'm not saying it didn't happen. Okay, I was there on the couch with you. I know what happened. But I think you're making too big of a deal about it. I mean it was just a moment. People have moments all the time." Her voice was calm and smooth as it rolled off of her cherry lips. It was hard to not be mesmerized by the movement of those lips.

"A moment?" I asked.

"Yes, a moment. We were caught up in the moment. I was in a vulnerable place because of the Loki thing, and you were in the middle of comforting me, and we just had a moment okay. It's not like we haven't had a moment before."

"Is that what you call Paris?" I could see her nostrils flare just slightly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!" She replied, angrily looking me up and down. "Now would you please just let it drop?" And that's when I saw it. Natasha liked to pretend she didn't feel, but she did. And I saw it in her eyes. And now that I knew it was there – albeit buried deep – I wasn't going to let her slide like that. I was gonna make her say it.

"No Natasha, because that's bullshit!"

"What is?" She looked taken aback. She didn't think I was gonna call her on her lies, but I was tired of being in this exact place with Natasha.

"Your whole 'moment' speech!" I yelled. "Because you know that's not true Natasha! You feel something!" She was flustered after that. I'd thrown her off her game.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't fucking lie to me or to yourself Nat! You feel something! You felt something in Paris! You felt something tonight when you almost let me kiss you! If you would just stop trying to fight whatever it is you're feeling and just go with it, it would make things a hell of a lot easier Nat." I was really close to her now. It was more apparent in her eyes than ever. Even though the rest of her face would never betray anything, the eyes always tripped people up. And right now, her eyes couldn't hide her feelings. Her façade was cracking. Even still, she pushed me away and turned around.

"You need sleep Barton. I think the deprivation is finally getting to you."

I sighed and decided to wave a white flag for the moment. "Okay, okay, whatever you say, but I'm not giving up Natasha. I'm gonna get you to admit you feel something if it's the last thing I do."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

Clint didn't move seats like I'd hoped he would. He stubbornly sat there and almost pouted. Slowly though he did drift off to sleep. Sleep wasn't an option for me. I was far too shaken up from our argument of sorts. I rubbed my face with my hands. That was entirely too close. I slammed my eyes closed. I remembered the proximity of Clint. He'd been so close, close enough to make me nervous, close enough to make me seriously think about breaking the rules. And that was what scared me. He'd been right in the car. Paris didn't exactly hold a good track record for us. The last time we'd been here had been…well there aren't even good enough words to describe it. And I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to trust myself. I knew I couldn't trust him in that regard.

I flipped open my file again and decided to reread the details of the case. I needed to start getting into character anyway. Clint did too. But I looked over at him and he looked so peaceful sleeping, his face and body utterly relaxed. I couldn't wake him up. I'd let him sleep just a little longer.

My alias was Lena Ampère, a 27-year-old writer originally from France. My parents had immigrated to the United States for my father's work. They still live there in a New York loft. While studying writing at NYU, I met my now-fiancé, Eric Hirst. I glanced over at Clint. Why did S.H.I.E.L.D. always put us in romantic situations? Couldn't we ever just be friends or siblings even? I thought about us though and inwardly laughed at the suggestion. Siblings would never look at each other the way Clint and I did. Fury wasn't an idiot, and he wouldn't waste the chemistry. Just because it wasn't actively acted on didn't mean it wasn't there.

What was I doing? Why did I always let my thoughts somehow loop around and come back to Clint and me, us? There was no us, technically. I sighed. I'd been able to resist my feelings for the longest time because I'd never been sure about his. But with the 'almost-kiss' as he referred to it, he'd laid his cards on the table for me to see. And I couldn't deny his feelings anymore. I'd known about them for a while now, but as long as he never vocalized them or made them known in some way, my knowing could just be chopped up to speculation. But not anymore. My eyelids began to feel heavier with the weight of the realization. I closed the folder and set it aside, finally letting my eyes slid shut. The blackness of my mind became fuzzy as I bordered on sleep. But I do remember the last thing I thought: if I can't deny his feelings anymore, how long can I still resist mine? Paris was going to be as problematic as last time.

Jinxcharm:

OHHHH they're going to Paris. I wonder what happened last time? Well guess what, you get to find out in the next chapter.

Chapter Ten: Paris


	10. Chapter 10: Paris

Finally finished with Chapter 10! Yay, sorry it's been so long. I've been really busy and had some mishaps. But here is Chapter 10! Musical inspirations: Paris Nights and New York Mornings and Trouble Sleeping both by Corinne Bailey Rae. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please review and let me know what you think.

Chapter Ten: Paris

Natasha Romanoff

I wasn't sure when I became consciously aware of the close proximity. I kept my eyes closed and my face relaxed, not betraying the fact that I was technically awake. I felt a hand lingering above my face, and it took everything I had not to tense in anticipation. Then I felt him push a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I could easily remember a time when I would have jumped and put a gun to his head. But we'd been partners long enough now that I knew his touch. I finally blinked my eyes open, a blurry gaze setting on him. I blinked again and realized, as my senses cleared of sleep's haziness, that I'd slumped down in my chair. His gray-blue eyes looked down at me with a loopy smile on his face. "Hey sleepyhead."

"Hey," I said, smiling in spite of myself. I pushed myself up to where I was sitting straight. "How long was I out?" I asked, looking around.

"Just an hour or two," Clint mused. I couldn't understand why he was being so nice to me, especially after I'd shut him out and acted like a complete bitch. He seemed to read my thoughts because he sighed heavily, with years of pent-up feelings weighing him down. "Look Nat, I'm sorry about earlier. I don't wanna fight. Let's just go to Paris and get this mission done and get back home." I looked at him, seriously studying his face.

"Can you really do that though?" I asked softly. "Can you really push that aside?" I saw it in his eyes, the answer I expected to find.

"For now," he admitted. "Besides Fury would kill us if we screwed this mission up." He gave me another loopy smile and I allowed his feeble attempt to bridge us into comfortable ground to stand. I'd let him bury the hatchet. I just hoped he let it stay dead.

I reached for the S.H.I.E.L.D. folder and pulled it into my lap. "Have you had a chance to look at this stuff yet?" I asked.

"Briefly," he nodded. "I still want to know who comes up with these names." I inwardly sighed. A lot of the time when Clint joked, it was to distract himself and everyone around him from his own real feelings. "I mean, what kind of a name is Hirst?"

"I got Ampère. How is that any better?" I said in a solemn voice.

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be French. Ampère is a French surname. Hirst is just a stupid name." He sulked. I rolled my eyes.

"You're so childish sometimes." I mumbled under my breath. And I meant it: Clint Barton had a streak in him that occasionally popped up from underneath the serious side, a very childish streak. And I swear he did it half the time just to annoy the shit out of me, and yet, I found myself giving a small smile in spite of that. I could feel his eyes grazing over my face, taking note of my smile.

"I can't picture you as a Lena," He'd said it in such a quiet voice that I wasn't sure if he actually expected me to reply to that. I looked up at him and got mesmerized by his gray blue eyes that somehow shined even though the gray should've washed them out. I caught myself and looked down, forcing the blush rising to my cheeks to fade quickly into the normal pale pigment of my skin.

"You're not much of an Eric either," I acknowledged.

"Yeah, I guess not," he mused, flipping through the pages of his file. "Where did we meet?" He asked, falling into our normal routine of questioning each other.

"Oh we met in college, in our intro to philosophy class. We were paired together for a group discussion, and wouldn't you know, he stared at me the entire time. It took him a whole month before he actually said anything to me. But as they say, the rest is history," I said in a sweet voice, giving it the slightest hint of a French accent. My parents might be French, but I'd been in the United States long enough to have had my voice assimilated to overwhelmingly American. "He made me love him that first night." I gave a girlish smile and batted my eyelashes lovingly. I turned and looked at Clint, letting my smile fall back into my normal neutral frown. He nodded his head.

"Nice touch on the voice by the way: extremely American, but just the tad bit of French."

"How'd I look?" I asked. He looked at me for several seconds and I could visibly see the battle going on inside him, bubbling just below the surface, and he was struggling to contain it.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X.

- Clint Barton

I replayed the look she'd had on her face as she told Lena and Eric's story, the way her mouth curled up gently to form a smile. She never did smile much, but it suited her so well. It made her eyes light up in a way that was so honest that it was hard to believe she was acting. I had watched the way she batted her eyes in my direction, her eyelashes gracefully and lovingly falling and rising as she did. "Like a girl in love," I finally said, now becoming consciously aware that I hadn't answered her yet. I also noticed the fact that she was eyeing me with curiosity and something else I couldn't quite recognize: maybe pity, maybe not. She gave a curt nod when I said that and turned her attention to the folder.

"You should look over your information some more," she said evenly, flipping through hers again, even though I knew she probably already had Lena Ampère down and memorized. I let my eyes fall to the floor, before sighing and looking back up to the folder. I couldn't wait to get off this damn plane.

Natasha read and reread that stupid folder over and over until the plane went to land. She looked over at me. "You ready?" She said simply.

I nodded, closing my own folder and putting it away. "Yeah. You?" It was one of those rare occasions that I saw Natasha Romanoff falter. She looked so unsure of herself, the Black Widow, the calculative, manipulative, cold-blooded killer. It was hard to imagine she could ever get that way. But then again, I felt privileged because I was one of the few people that she let see that side. I smiled inwardly, realizing exactly what she was trying to hide: she was nervous; she was nervous about being in Paris with me. But just as quickly as the nervousness had appeared it disappeared.

"Of course, I always am." She frowned and put away her own folder. It was early morning hours when the plane finally did touch down on the grounds of Paris. We both stood and started grabbing our things. I could sense the change in Natasha's demeanor and knew that she had transformed herself into Lena Ampère. God she was so good at that, turning it on and off like the flip of a switch. What an actress? She was good enough to look like a girl in love, but secretly I'd hoped that was because of another reason. I shook my head as I slung the black bag over my arm. I couldn't think like that here and now. I'd given a lot of inward joy about Natasha being nervous about Paris considering our track record, but maybe I had something to be nervous about as well.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

_- 5 years ago _

_- Natasha Romanoff _

_My red curls were immediately caught by the Parisian breeze as we stepped off the plane. I clutched the black handbag I needed to play the part of a glamorous trophy wife. The words, even in my thoughts, made me want to puke, and I thought I tasted the faintest hint of bile in the back of my throat. The whole idea was disgusting to me in general. I didn't understand how women could lower themselves to the classification of an object. They were people after all. We were people. And if we married somebody it should be for the right God damn reasons, not so that a man can parade us around like a shiny new toy and make the other kids jealous. I knew from the look Clint gave me that my face had reddened slightly as I fumed on the inside. I was still pissed at Fury for making me go undercover as one of those stupid bimbos, not to mention the fact that Clint was playing my highly intelligent, 'superior' husband. I mean, not that I wanted anyone else to play that role, but I just knew Clint was going to give me some cheeky ass remark. God that man really did know how to get under my skin! We'd been partners for three years and I still wasn't quite used to his antics. He was a fucking child sometimes. And I would never get used to that. _

_I waited impatiently as Clint took his sweet time getting off the plane. I gave an overdramatic look at my watch and outwardly sighed. I didn't think anyone was watching us at this point, but you could never be too careful, and it was standard protocol to enter into your characters' personas as soon as you stepped off the plane. Clint finally appeared, stepping down the stairs dressed nicely in a black business suit. I rolled my eyes and almost aggressively stuck my hand out for him to take it. He shot me a smart ass smile that I knew was more Clint than his character. I gave him a guarded glare to tell him not to even think about breaking character, before bugging my eyes out even more and shaking my hand until he finally grabbed my arm. "Thank you!" I said in the most annoying American tone I could manage. _

_This time I was Maria Jacobs, the wife of the Henry Jacobs, CEO of one of the most powerful weapons companies in the world. S.H.I.E.L.D. had created this phony company years back and had put in enough hours, resources, and energy to make it completely believable. It had gained credit over the years, by actually selling weapons to buyers, which were promptly caught and stopped by S.H.I.E.L.D. of course. That's exactly what our mission was now: sell weapons to a high profile threat and then take him out. Normally we just imprisoned arms dealers and buyers, but Fury felt that this one was far too dangerous to keep alive. And if Fury felt that someone needed to be taken out, it meant they did. I couldn't help but imagine a similar conversation that occurred a few years earlier, except instead of an arms dealer, it was a young assassin, and instead of Barton carrying out the mission, he'd brought her back. _

_We walked down the stairs to the waiting car. Clint walked to one side and I coughed audibly, drawing his attention back to me. I gave him an irritated look and nodded towards my door. He rolled his own eyes and moved back to open my door. I gave him a smile and with closed eyes, turned my head upwards, "Thank you," I said huffily as I slid into the car. He slammed the door tiredly and then went to his side, crawling in beside me. He slung his arm protectively around me as the driver pulled the car away from the plane. Clint relaxed slightly as the car started driving. "Nice acting Nat," he whispered to me. I elbow him in the ribs. I heard breath escape from his lips. I couldn't help but smile slightly. "Damn Nat," he muttered. Our driver turned and looked at us while he was at a stop sign. He gave me a wink. _

"_It's ok Agent Romanoff," he acknowledged, "It's not like I don't know who you are anyway." Our driver was undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Wilson Tyler. And I knew that Clint wasn't in danger of compromising us by addressing me in the car when it was just us three, but it was unprofessional. If he'd done that at the Red Room, I would've been charged with killing him on the spot: official rules. You never knew when someone might have flipped sides or when the target might by some slim chance found out ahead of time our plans and infiltrated our systems. The car could've been bugged. I glared at Agent Tyler. I was still cold to nearly everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. at this point. Three years at S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't long enough to wipe away the suspicious nature bred and fostered in me from age five at the Red Room. _

"_It doesn't matter. You should stick to protocol!" I hissed under my breath. _

"_Lighten up Tasha, the mission doesn't start until we make contact." Barton never failed to amaze me. It was times like this that I wondered how he was still alive. _

"_Barton, if I pulled that shit in Russia, you wouldn't have a partner right now." I seethed. His eyes immediately softened, which only made me angrier. I hated it when he looked at me like that: with pity, pity that I had to go through shit like that at the Room. I knew there was an apology resting just on the tips of his lips. "Don't you dare," I sneered. He'd opened his mouth to speak and promptly let it fall shut. "And don't look at me like that. I'm not the only child in the world to have a shitty childhood, and I won't be the last." There was a tense silence between the three of us for a few moments. I blinked and looked at Agent Tyler. "We kinda need to be somewhere very soon." He shook his head, as if the trance was broken, and nodded, turning around. _

"_Of course, sorry," He said. With that, my comments were forgotten and Agent Tyler drove the car down the street. Clint's arms around me tightened instinctively after what I'd said. I relaxed into his arm and rested my head against the seat, sighing. _

Present Day

This time, Clint and I exited the plane together, arm-in-arm, laughing gently. There was a similar car waiting for us this time just like there was five years ago. Clint willingly opened its door and I slid in, pulling him in beside me. He pulled the door closed, and kept his arm around me. I sighed, relaxing into his arm again, just like five years ago, except this time there were heaviness to it. I was exhausted emotionally, and we'd just gotten there. I was in big trouble. I could already tell.

Our driver turned and looked at us. "Hello Agents," he said. He was a tall man with blonde hair and dull brown eyes. "I'll be your driver for the duration of your trip. My name is Agent Terry." I promptly shot daggers at the newbie agent. Obviously Agent Terry hadn't been informed of the proper protocol. He looked taken aback at my apparent aggression – just like a deer in headlights. I could _feel_ Clint smile one of his normal loopy smiles as he rested his head against the back of the car, inadvertently leaning towards me.

"Nat," he said with a slight hint of warning in his tone. I turned my head and shared my angry gaze with him too.

"Clint," I hissed under my breath.

"Oh Nat, lighten up would you! Agent Tyler, don't mind her. She's just a little old-fashioned."

"Sometimes old-fashion saves your life Barton!" I snapped, narrowing my eyes. "And don't pretend it hasn't saved your ass on multiple occasions!" His smile never faded from his face even as my voice rose with aggravation, and his childish look halfway pissed me off more. And secretly, the other half was melting at the light that twinkled in his eyes when he smiled, but I wouldn't let Clint know that. He threw his hands up in mock surrender and waved them around.

"I never said they didn't," he said, "I'm just saying that sometimes it's ok to break the rules." There was something in his voice. I sensed there was a double meaning in his words. I narrowed my eyes even further. He'd promised that he wouldn't let this shit affect the mission. He said that he could bury it. I knew he wouldn't hold it in forever, but it'd hardly been a few minutes. He sensed the second underlying layer of hostility and gave a slight nod in response. Agent Tyler had been watching us with wide eyes. He finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Is everything ok agents?" I turned to look at him in disbelief. I turned back to Clint, extra pissed off now. "Is there anything I need to know? Anything that would affect the case?"

That did it. I whipped my head back to the newbie agent. "Agent Tyler, how dare you accuse me of being unprofessional when it is you who broke protocol by revealing yourself to me?!" His eyes widened, taken off guard. "Now I suggest you turn around and drive us to the fucking hotel! Got it?" He nodded like the scared newbie he was. He turned around and started the car, pulling away from the plane. He mumbled something incoherently, sending me up a wall. Clint noticed my anger spike and tried to stop me, but he failed miserably. Clint's good, but I'm faster. I gripped his shirt by the car and pulled him towards me, jerking his hands from the steering wheel. He slammed on the breaks to keep from crashing, causing us to crash closer together. Our faces were inches apart, and I made sure he was staring straight into my death-glared eyes. "And I don't want to hear another god damn peep out of you! Understood Agent?" I demanded. He nodded shakily. He was scared of me. I pushed him back to his seat and rolled my eyes, leaning back against Clint's arm. "Rookie," I hissed under my breath.

Clint looked at me, obviously amused. "Damn Nat," he muttered to me while nodding his head towards Agent Tyler. I shook my head tightly at him. I was not going to fucking apologize for telling off some unprofessional rookie agent who didn't know what the hell he was doing! I crossed my arms and leaned further into Clint's arms, seething on the inside. I needed to calm down. I needed to get back into character. Lena wasn't the angry type: she was just a lovesick writer, visiting her homeland with her fiancé for what could be the last time before they got married.

We got to the hotel and Clint got out first, holding the door open and helping me out. I smiled lovingly at him and we strolled into the hotel and checked in. I never once left his side. Lena and Eric were at that stage in their relationship where they needed to be around each other all the time – the nauseating clingy portion of the relationship that would eventually get on everyone's nerves, including mine and Clint's too. We checked in and walked up to our hotel room together. As soon as the door was shut, we began looking around the room with fake interest and excitement. "Oh Eric, I still can't believe we're here!" I said, as we set about our work checking the room for bugs. I took one side, while Clint took the other. He turned and looked at me.

"I thought you'd like this little trip. I just thought it'd be something nice to do. I know you haven't been back in a long time."

"It's the best gift you could've ever given me."

"Anything for you darling," he said sweetly before turning to walk into the next room. I continued searching for any bugs on my end, and after a few minutes Clint entered the room and gave a nod. "I don't know why we have to do that every single time. We never find any bugs."

"Because Barton, the first time we don't look for them is likely the time we'll have been compromised and there will actually be bugs in our rooms." I said. It was routine really: we stayed in character long enough to check for bugs, Barton complained about always checking for bugs, and I gave him the same curt reply in a no-nonsense tone that said get over it. The next phase was setting up our S.H.I.E.L.D. contact. Clint pulled a computer out of one of our bags and immediately began working on contacting our handler. He nodded at me, and I locked the door before he initiated a chat.

"Hello agents, how's Paris?" Maurice asked.

"We wouldn't know. We just got here." Clint said, sounding bored. Clint and Maurice hadn't warmed up to each other as much as I would've liked. Deep down, I knew Clint still hadn't accepted Coulson's death, and the indirect role he thinks he played in it. I'd tried many a time to explain to him that it was Loki, not him, but he wouldn't listen.

"What's next on our agenda?" I asked, coming to sit beside Clint on the hotel bed. It was comfortable. Say what you will: S.H.I.E.L.D. treated its agents nicely.

"Laclare has a meeting at a building a few blocks away. I suggest you two go be a soon-to-be married couple and find some way to make contact."

"Got it," Clint said.

"Be careful agents. We expect you back here in one piece." Clint didn't say anything back. He just ended the transmission. He stood icily and locked the computer away in our bags, before locking our bags in the closet. I continued sitting on the bed, watching him move about the room.

"You know, you could be a little nicer to him," I acknowledged. Clint shot me a look.

"You're lecturing me on being nice? You gave me hell for years Natasha." I was actually a little stunned by the venom in his voice. I nodded, knowing that he was right, and after the hell I put him through for years, I deserved to hear him talk about it.

"It's not his fault Clint. He can't help that he's not Coulson." I said gently. Clint looked at me with a hard edge.

"No it's not, it's mine." My face softened and my breath caught in my throat. I didn't know how to get through to him. I'd tried and tried to make him see reason, but somehow we always came back to this.

"Clint," my voice was barely a whisper, and yet it seemed to be the loudest thing in the room. He looked up at me, and there was such a heaviness in his eyes that it made me hurt. I was there in seconds, my hands on his shoulders. He looked tortured, and I knew he'd lost several hours of sleep over the subject. He looked down at the ground, and as long as I stared at him, he wouldn't meet my eyes. I tried to make him look at me, but he kept avoiding me. "Clint, look at me. Look at me," I said, putting my hand on his face, pulling him closer to me, forcing his eyes to mine. "What happened to Coulson, it wasn't your fault."

"But Nat – "

"No Clint, no, don't do this to yourself again. Now listen to me: it wasn't your fault. Okay, it wasn't your fault."

"Then why does it feel like it was," he managed to say finally. I let my hand run up his cheek and into his hair.

"Sssshhh," I whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, even though I hadn't thought I could get any closer. There was no space between us until I pulled back a little to look at his face. We were still only inches away from each other, and I could feel my heart beating in my ears. He stared at me intensely. Shit, we'd been in Paris less than an hour and I was already in danger of giving in to my feelings, to him. It was hard to not want him, especially when I knew he wanted me. But we couldn't. It was against S.H.I.E.L.D.'s policy. It would compromise them in every way possible. It was dangerous. It was wrong. I couldn't do that to him. And yet, somehow I could still feel myself leaning in slightly. I'd allowed my eyes to slide shut and we froze there in that moment, hanging on the edge, ready to fall over. "We have to make contact." With that, I broke the moment and stepped away.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

_- 5 years ago _

_ "We need to make contact," I said, giving Clint a look as I placed my gaudy earrings in my ears. They were long, dangly, and sparkly: Maria Jacob's three favorite things. I was wearing a tight green dress and black strappy heels. I wasn't stupid. I could feel Clint's eyes on my body as I reached in for the jeweled necklace on the dresser, but I wasn't bothered by it. I was used to men staring at my body. It was the trick of my trade, and I'd been a master at seduction for a while now. I was well aware what my body did to the male species. Many a man had met his demise because of my body, and after all, Clint was human. I'd have been insulted if he had never snuck a glance. Besides, part of me liked it. It gave me a nervous thrill that I hadn't had in a long time. And I wasn't blind: Clint Barton was many things, among them a very attractive guy. It wasn't like I hadn't checked him out at some point. _

_ I held the necklace out to him and he took it, fastening it about my neck. The tips of his fingers brushed against the base of my neck, causing my breath to catch in my throat and a chill to run through my body. "I'm aware Tasha," he said, the heat of his breath strong enough to hit my body. God why was it so hard to keep my cool around Clint Barton? I was the god damn Black Widow! I didn't get crushes on guys, especially my partners. I didn't have feelings at all really. I was just an assassin and a spy. When you're in those jobs, feelings become a liability. But it was just so damn hard to focus when he was around me. I turned around to face him, noticing exactly how close we were. He seemed to notice too, but he didn't move back. "Ready to go Mrs. Jacobs?" He asked, slipping effortlessly back into character. _

_ "Of course darling," I mused back, "I'm sorry it took so long, but as they say: you just simply cannot rush perfection. But now, my dear, you have your perfection." I flipped my hand out for him to take and he led me from the hotel room. We walked down the stairs a party that was going on in honor of our arms dealer's recent engagement to his longtime girlfriend, Esmeralda Fitzgerald, who also dabbled in the arms business alongside her soon-to-be hubby. How quaint, I couldn't help but think. Austen Harken, our arms dealer, in a show of just how impressive and successful he was, had invited the entire hotel to his party. How pathetic. _

_ We strolled arm-in-arm past the security guard and into the elaborately decorated party scene. "Isn't this just lovely darling?" I chirped. _

_ "It's highly overrated," Clint said in an almost bitter voice. He was playing his character extremely well; I had to give him props. We made our way to the happy couple who was standing at the opposite end of the room. Esmeralda Fitzgerald was model-thin with obvious Spanish heritage. Her dark skin and big brown eyes complimented her bone structure and black, curly hair. She was utterly gorgeous. She was dressed in a long purple dress with a halter tie, and long, dangly diamond earrings that matched her diamond engagement ring. She had a champagne glass in her left hand, no doubt to model the engagement ring to anyone who approached them, while her right arm was loosely wrapped around Austen. Austen's short blonde hair and dull hazel eyes didn't do much for me, but apparently Esmeralda found them irresistible, or she found the money irresistible, either was a believable option. _

_ "Oh, you must be Esmeralda Fitzgerald and Austen Harken," I chimed annoyingly as we stopped in front of them, drawing their eyes to us. The couple took us in and exchanged a glance. "You two are just the cutest couple," I went on, "Congratulations on hooking this one line and sinker. You two must consider yourselves very lucky. And Esmeralda dear, you're even more beautiful in person. The pictures don't do you justice." I said, making sure to mention her career as a model. She smiled happily, though a trace of suspicion was evident in her air. I looked expectantly at Clint, but he didn't say anything. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and gave him a sharp elbow to the side. I looked back to the two people standing in front of me: "Sorry," I mouthed. Clint, finally sensing my hint, cleared his throat. _

_ "My name is Henry Jacobs, CEO of – " Austen Harken held out a hand and cut Clint off. _

_ "Yes Mr. Jacobs, we know exactly who you are." He said as Clint took his hand. Esmeralda smiled, a flash appearing in her eyes. She held out her own hand, which Clint took after he released Austen's hand. _

_ "It's always nice to meet another in the business. We're big fans of your work." _

_ "I wasn't aware that you two were big customers." Clint said, raising his eyes between Esmeralda and Austen._

_ "Oh we've only bought one or two small things. But we were actually hoping to make a rather large purchase here soon – that is if you have what we're looking for." Esmeralda said flirtatiously, so much so that I rolled my eyes, relishing in the fact that Maria Jacobs would have done the same. _

_ "We were hoping you would give us a run through of your inventory. We were actually going to call your company and set up a meeting in the near future, but now that you're here, we can get down to business. I wasn't aware that you were in Paris Mr. Jacobs." Austen said. "Business or pleasure?" _

_ "Both," Clint chimed. "Actually, my main reason for coming to Paris was news that you were vacationing here as well. We just had some new weapons developed, and I thought they would be up your ally. So I told Maria here that we just had to vacation here, and of course she didn't complain." I coughed loudly, an action Maria would have definitely done. I put the most annoyed look I could manage on my face. Clint gave me a puzzled look and then let his eyes rise in recognition. _

_ "I'm so sorry. Mr. Harken, Miss Fitzgerald, this is my wife Maria." I gave a fake smile and shook both of their hands. _

_ "I believe congratulations are in order." I said to Esmeralda, with a glance at Austen. _

_ "Why thank you." She said politely, glancing lovingly at Austen. _

_ "I take it he's a lucky man," I said. He smiled and nodded. _

_ "That I am. And look at you, you're gorgeous. I believe Henry is also a lucky man." I smiled and pretended to be flattered even though his flowery flattery made me want to throw up. _

_ "I'm glad someone notices." I said with a bitter edge. Clint rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed way. _

_ "Oh come on Maria. Don't be like that. You know I'm crazy about you." He tried to put his arm around me but I scooted out of the way and stepped closer to Esmeralda. _

_ "Would you like to get a drink?" I asked her. She shot a look at Austen. Clint looked taken aback and slightly hurt. _

_ "Uh, sure." She said, unsure, looking to Austen. "If that's ok with you darling." _

_ He looked from Esmeralda, to Clint, and then to me, before settling on Esmeralda again. He nodded. "Oh course darling. Besides, Mr. Jacobs and I have business to discuss." Clint straightened his jacket and shrugged away the hurt, giving himself the manner of perfect professionalism. He cleared his throat and nodded. _

_ "That we do. Go ahead Maria, but try not to drink too much. You know what alcohol does to you." I rolled my eyes again and pulled Esmeralda away without another word. _

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Present Day

I'd changed into a floral sundress complete with black sunglasses and a wicker hat with a black ribbon wrapped around it and a pink flower nestled into it. I was putting my sandals on when Clint came out of the bathroom. He'd changed into a blue collared button up shirt and khaki pants. I stood up and pulled my red curls over my shoulders. I met his blue eyes and found him staring at me. "You can close your mouth now." I said, repressing my urge to smile.

"I was just going to say you look beautiful." I grabbed Lena's purse from the bed and actually gave a small smile this time.

"Thanks." I looked at the clock. We needed to hurry. "Come on, let's get out of here." I grabbed Clint's hand and intertwined our fingers, ignoring the warmth that spread from my hands throughout my entire body.

We walked the few blocks quickly. I could see the building Laclare was having his meeting at in sight. I looked around, thinking quickly on my feet. "You know what we should do?" I said in Lena's voice. Eric looked at me.

"What?" He asked, throwing a New York spin on his normal voice. It sounded weird coming from his mouths. I much preferred the reformed criminal from Iowa. Then I had to shake those ideas away from my head. I fought the urge to sigh and wondered when Clint Barton had infected me with this feeling – feelings strong enough to distract me from my mission, feelings strong enough to keep me constantly aware of our intertwined hands. I knew my heart was beating louder and faster than it should've been, and I knew that Clint could feel it. God this was a mess.

I finally forced the thoughts away and reverted back to Lena. I pointed to a shop across the street. "Ice cream cones – a must in Paris, well a must anywhere really." I could tell Clint was confused by my line of thinking, but I knew when he gave me that loopy smile that he trusted I had a plan, which I did. We strolled into the shop and exited each with our own ice cream cones. We continued towards the building Laclare should be exiting any moment. I wasn't sure if Clint was clear on my plan. It should've been obvious by now in my opinion. It was a pretty basic plan. A rookie could've come up with it, but it was just simple enough that it would be believable, besides Maurice didn't give me much to work with yet.

We were all smiles and laughter and casual conversation as we got closer to the building. I could see Laclare coming out of the building: show time. I playfully took my ice cream cone and pushed it into Clint's face. He definitely wasn't expecting it. If he didn't understand the plan before, I knew he did now. A wide smile formed on his face as he wiped chocolate off his face. Lena giggled wildly, and I actually found it a tad bit funny myself. Clint raised his eyebrows and his vanilla cone and turned his head slightly, and I knew that he was coming after me or rather Eric was coming after Lena. I gave my high pitched girlie shriek, and turned running down the sidewalk to avoid the coming vanilla ice cream. Clint wasn't far behind me and I sped up as I curved around other sidewalk walkers, until I collided with a man in a business suit, the remains of my chocolate ice cream cone smearing against the fabric. I placed my hands on the man in front of me and pushed myself back, letting the cone fall to the ground. I looked up into the eyes of Fredrick Laclare. "I'm so sorry," I stuttered, planting a guilt stricken look on my face. I stumbled backward and felt Clint's arms on my forearms, holding me close to him.

"I'm so sorry sir. We were just messing around." Laclare began surveying the damage done to his suit while shaking his head.

"That's quite alright. It's just fabric." He looked up and took in the sight of Lena and Eric. "Honeymoon?" He asked.

"Not quite yet," Clint said. I showed my left hand where the 'engagement ring' was in clear view.

"Newly engaged," I breathed, still pretending to be mortified.

"Lighten up my dear," he said, "You look like you've seen a ghost. If you're still worried about my suit, don't." He looked at Eric and watched the way he looked at me, the way Clint looked at me. "I remember what it's like to be that in love."

"Are you married sir, Mr…." I trailed off.

"Laclare, Fredrick Laclare, and yes I am to the most amazing woman." He pulled a wallet out of his pocket and opened it up. For a deadly arms dealer, Laclare was not as intelligent as I would've expected. He showed us a picture of himself standing with a beautiful blonde woman.

"She's lovely sir," I said, letting a slightly more amount of French accent to enter into my speech.

"Are you from here? I noticed your accent."

"I'm from here originally, but I've lived in the United States for quite some time."

"That's where we met." Clint said, chiming in. Laclare put the wallet back in his pocket, and looked at us.

"Well I hope you have a good stay in Paris. And I wish you well in your engagement and subsequent marriage."

"Thank you Mr. Laclare." Clint said, smiling warmly before looking at me lovingly. He kissed my cheek.

"Thank you sir, and I'm sorry for your suit."

"I told you think nothing of it. I've got plenty at home. We'll consider it a casualty of young love, the purest love there is. If you'll excuse me, I'm planning a party for my wife tomorrow evening. I've got to make sure the details are finalized." He winked and then left us. Wow, Laclare was a sucker for a good romance: go figure. He was quite charming though. There was something in his demeanor that was inviting. It probably served him well in his career of selling weapons of mass destruction to countries as well as other weapons that had led to the deaths of thousands of women and children. Men like him disgusted me.

Clint took my hand again as Eric and Lena continued their walk through the Parisian streets. We finally snaked our way back to the hotel room. I made Clint help me check for bugs before we dropped our aliases. "Well Laclare is a piece of work." I said, tossing my hat on the bed, running my fingers through my red curls.

"I think all arms dealers are a piece of work Nat." Clint said, pulling the computer out of its locked place. He flipped it open and contacted Maurice, filling him in on our afternoon walk. Maurice nodded and said he would work on a way to get us into the party with a legit excuse. After Clint closed the computer and locked it back up, he collapsed on the edge of the bed. I walked past him to the bathroom. "Hey Nat," he whispered from the bed. I stopped in the doorway and looked at him. "About earlier – "

"Clint," I warned, "I told you to stop blaming yourself. I don't want to have to repeat my entire rant again."

"No, it's not that. I just wanted to say thank you for that. It means a lot to me that you're always there for me to tell me not to blame myself."

"It's not a problem Clint, that's what partners do." I said curtly. I really wanted to leave him there. I didn't wanna continue this conversation. I was in danger of saying things that shouldn't be said.

"Nat, we're more than partners." Oh no, he was swimming into dangerous territory and if they weren't careful, they'd drown. "We're at least friends right?" He asked. The uncertainty in his voice was killing her.

"Of course we are Clint," I said, giving him a sympathetic glance.

He nodded. "Thanks, it's just sometimes it seems like we aren't, and I just need to remind myself in some way."

"Clint," I started, stepping towards him. "You're the best person I know. You don't even understand how important you are to me. I – " And it was at that moment when I knew I was taking in water faster than the Titanic after it hit the ice. I had to get out of there. Clint was looking at me expectantly. "You should get some rest. It's been a long day." Clint's eyes dulled slightly, and he nodded. I stepped backwards into the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the shower, but didn't get in. I just sat against the wall and stared into space, wondering how I was going to swim myself to dry land now.

Sometime later I turned off the shower and pulled on one of the hotel robes over my clothes. Clint actually took my advice and was fast asleep, rolled over to one side. I took off the robe and threw it on the back of one of the chairs. I slipped my sandals back on and grabbed a coat from the closet. I needed some air, and maybe some perspective.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

_- 5 Years Ago_

_"HE TAKES ME FOR GRANTED!" I whined, pretending to be drunk off my ass. I, Natasha Romanoff, might be able to hold my liquor remarkably well, but Maria Jacobs was a lightweight and the five drinks she'd had were three too many. Esmeralda had of course remarked on the strained relationship between Maria and Henry, and I just started sputtering all of 'my personal drama'. "He acts like he cares about me, but I know I'm just a trophy he shows off to everyone. He doesn't even care enough to introduce me half the time. He just wants me to be eye-candy on his arm and no one else's." Esmeralda gave me a sympathetic look. _

_ "Do you love him?" _

_ "I know it might be hard to believe, but I really do. Everyone only thinks I'm here for the money and the fact he spoils me, but I really do love him. I just wish he loved me as much." I let fake tears rush to my eyes and Esmeralda rubbed circles on my back. I grabbed another drink and held it in my hand. I could tell Esmeralda wanted to take it away. She thought I'd had too many already. _

_ "Then you should open up and tell him about your concerns. Honesty is the best policy and really is the foundation of relationships. Everyone thinks Austen and I can't really be in love, that we must be using each other for the business or even the sex, but that's not the case. We tell each other everything. I've never been so in love with anyone in my life, and I doubt I'll love anyone else the exact way I love him." It was a beautiful thought. It actually made me a little disheartened that we were going to kill her lover. I didn't feel bad for Harken: he was too screwed up for that, had too much red in his ledger. _

_ "You know what, you're right. I should tell him. He should know that I love him." _

_ "You should go to him. He and Austen look like they're finished talking." She said, pointing to Clint and Austen. _

_ "You're right. I'm gonna do it." I couldn't believe what I was going to do, but I knew I needed to do it to make our characters believable. Arms dealers were ineptly skeptical and the smallest details could make them suspicious. I moved quickly through the crowds of people like a desperate woman on a mission. Austen and Clint both looked up. They had begun making their way to the bar. _

_ "Mari – " Clint started, but I cut him off when I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me, crashing our lips together. I could tell I'd taken Clint by surprise. I'd taken Austen by surprise too, but Esmeralda grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from us. _

_ "I think we should leave these two alone." She said. _

_ What could I say about kissing Clint Barton? It wasn't like we hadn't kissed on missions before. We'd given each other pecks here and there like couples would, but this was something completely different. Even as Maria and Henry Jacobs, it was still amazing. Warmth flooded my body until that warmth morphed into heat. And I needed him. I'd never needed anyone in my entire life, but at that moment, I __**needed**__ him. Somewhere along the way, the kiss deepened and Clint put his arms around my waist. I finally pulled away and stared at him. "I love you Henry." But it was Natasha who was gasping for air, trying to recover from that kiss. Clint was motionless and mute for a few moments before finally coming to his senses. _

_ "I love you too Maria." _

_ "Let's get out of here," I whispered. He nodded and let me pulled him towards the exit. We passed Austen and Esmeralda, and I gave her a thumbs up. What a cheesy move! She smiled and whispered something to Austen who nodded knowingly. _

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

When I woke up sometime later, I was alone in bed. The shower wasn't running, and I knocked on the door. "Nat?" I asked. There was no answer. I pushed open the door and found myself alone in the hotel room. Shit, I thought. I looked around for any indication of her whereabouts and I found a note. _Going for a walk, be back soon – Nat_. I ran a hand through my hair. She'd been close to saying something earlier, something concerning her personal feelings for me, I was sure of it. That's probably why she went out for the walk. She was angry at herself for almost admitting she had feelings for me. I know I'm not the brightest person in the world, but I was by no means stupid. Natasha was running from her feelings for me. She almost kissed me earlier today. She'd even closed her eyes and leaned in for Christ's sake.

I sighed and tried to think about where Nat would've gone. I wanted to go find her. I knew she was a big girl and could obviously take care of herself, but I couldn't help but worry about her. Natasha was my reason for wanting to stay alive. Being an assassin, you always had to be prepared to die, but since becoming Natasha Romanoff's partner, I'd found I was less prepared to do that unless I was doing it for her. I went through all the places in Paris and finally figured out where Natasha would go. I grabbed my own coat from the closet and set out to get a taxi.

Once I was in the taxi and on my way to her destination, I began to think back to our last time in Paris. It was still clear in my mind. It would probably always be, now that I thought about it.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

_- 5 Years Ago _

_- Clint Barton_

_As Natasha dragged me up to the room, or really as Maria dragged Jacob up to the room, I couldn't shake Clint Barton. I was totally hung up on the kiss. God, I mean, sure I'd thought about kissing Natasha before, but never could I have ever imagined something like what just went down. God it was amazing, she was amazing. Natasha slammed the door to our room as soon as we were there. "I'm glad that's over," she breathed a sigh of relief. I looked at her, without saying anything. "I had to pretend to be overtly drunk." I nodded at her. And that's when reality set in: the kiss had been for the sake of the mission, for the sake of keeping in their characters. It hurt like hell and made his heart hurt in ways that he didn't even know were possible. _

_ She began pulling jewelry off her body, setting it carelessly on the dresser. Then amazingly, Natasha removed a god awful amount of knifes from her person. I still couldn't understand how she fit some many of her thin body concealed by her dress. I'd figure she would've hurt herself somehow. Then I wondered how long it took her to perfect the placement of knives all over her body. That thought left me feeling cold inside. I hated that Natasha had such a shitty childhood. I mean I know mine was by no means perfect, but hers was hell on Earth. We'd had separate rooms on that occasion. We would enter the same hotel room and then I would sleep in the connecting room that was also rented by S.H.I.E.L.D. _

_I had begun inching towards the door to my room, wanting to be alone so I could think about the kiss and my feelings on it. Natasha cleared her throat, causing me to stop. "Sorry for attacking you tonight Barton." _

"_What?" I asked, confused. _

"_I'm sorry for the kiss. I had to do it to keep cover with Esmeralda." I shook my head at this. She didn't need to be sorry for that kiss, I promise. _

"_Don't worry about it." I said. I turned towards my room again and closed the door behind me. I still held onto the door knob as I leaned backwards against the door. I couldn't shake Natasha Romanoff. I needed to see her. I wanted her. I wanted her bad. I tried to fight the feelings, and in the past I'd been successful, but with the heat of her kiss still burning me tonight, I knew I couldn't do it anymore. I opened the door and found Natasha standing there. She hadn't been about to knock. She'd just been standing there, staring at the white door that separated us. We stared at each other for what seemed like days. Then I crossed the small distance and kissed her, and she let me, because in all honesty Natasha Romanoff could take me down any time she wanted. I felt her arms wrap around my neck pulling me closer. I placed a trail of kisses down her neck. She leaned her head on my shoulder, as her hands unbuttoned my shirt. I shrugged it off and unzipped her dress. She stepped out of it and back into my arms. She put her forehead against my own and sighed. _

"_Clint," she whispered my name in my ear, sending a chill down my spine. "Clint, we should stop before…something…happens." Even as she said it, I knew we wouldn't stop, we couldn't stop…we were too far in. _

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Present Day

I told the taxi to wait for me while I retrieved Natasha. I made my way towards the Eiffel Tower, where I knew Natasha would be. She'd figured it was the most touristy place – big crowds are a must when you've an assassin. Also, Natasha hated tourists, so it would be the last place people who knew her would expect her to be. I walked through the crowds of people in the dark of the Parisian night. And that's when I saw her: she was standing under the lighted up Eiffel Tower. She was stationary, unmoving. I got close enough to call her name, and she eventually turned her head. She saw me, and I loved the way she looked at me. But I wasn't sure if it was Natasha looking at Clint, or Lena looking at Eric.

She had tears in her eyes, and I wanted to make them go away. I wiped one from her cheeks as I stood in front of her and everyone else. "Clint," she said. Well that was one problem solved. I rushed to her.

"Nat are you ok?" I asked, putting my hands on her forearms. She looked down at the skin contact and said nothing. I asked her again and she looked back slowly to my eyes. She nodded at me.

"Yeah, I'll be fine Barton." But the look on her face didn't convince me. She looked like she'd been crying. I ran a hand along the tear-stained cheek.

"Tasha, what's wrong?" I whispered. I couldn't stand to see Natasha like that. She looked miserable. I would give anything to make her feel better.

"It's just…." She trailed off and shook her head.

"Natasha." I whispered, and I heard her breath catch in her throat.

"Paris," she mouthed, unable to speak anymore. I'd never seen the great Black Widow, or Natasha Romanoff for that matter, look so vulnerable. I pulled her into a hug. I tangled one hand in her hair and used the other one to rub soothing circles in her back. She was evidently shaken. I wasn't sure what she'd been thinking about before I got here, but whatever it was, it'd really done a number on her.

"Hey come on, you said it yourself: Paris was just a moment." And while he didn't believe that for a moment, he knew she needed to hear it. "Why are you so unwound about this?" He said, finally releasing her from the hug. "It wasn't a big deal then, and it's not a big deal now." She nodded. "Come on, let's get out of here. We'll go back to the hotel and you can get some rest."

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

Clint started walking away, and I took a few steps behind him. But then I stopped. I'd been thinking a lot about Paris, about the almost kiss, about Clint, and I'd finally come to terms with some realizations. Paris wasn't just a moment. It had meant something to both of us. And it was a big deal. We'd crossed the line of professionalism, and we'd done it by choice. Neither of us had been drunk or manipulated into it. It hadn't been to keep our aliases strong. It had been a choice between Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, not Henry and Maria Jacobs. And that made the next realization so much more heartbreaking. It wasn't that I didn't have feelings for Clint. It wasn't that Clint didn't have feelings for me. The real barrier was their jobs. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have any regulations set in place to prevent it, but Fury would never stand for it. And he shouldn't. I'd seen several couples in the Red Room murdered for their attachments, because attachments at the end of the day just got in the way of the assignment. They prevented you from thinking clearly. You would compromise missions for attachments. And that was dangerous. My feelings for Clint Barton were dangerous. And yet, right then at that moment, I didn't really care.

He seemed to notice that I wasn't following him anymore and he turned around to stare at me. The Eiffel Tower was lit up with white lights against the darkened sky. Paris was a beautiful city, truly the city of love and the city of lights. And even though I knew better, I still walked quickly, closing the space between us, and allowed myself to give in to everything I was feeling. I rested my hands on his face as I kissed him. I moved my hands back into his hair as he finally caught up with me and put him hands around my waist. When we finally pulled away, I hid my face and just hugged him. "I wish we could." I whispered, and I knew he knew what I meant. He kissed the top of my head and kept an arm around my waist as we walked back to the taxi he'd told to wait. In the car, I laid my head on his shoulder and allowed a daze to fall over my senses. There was just something about Paris.

All I wanted to do by the time we got back to the hotel was sleep. Clint unlocked the door, and for once I wasn't going to worry about checking for bugs. But I could tell by the look on Clint's face that he would check for them, no matter how much it got on his nerves, and the thought made me smile. He opened the door and let me enter first. I froze in the doorway. "I was wondering when you two lovebirds were going to get back?" A voice asked. You got to be fucking kidding me!

Jinxcharm:

OMG! Who do you think is in their hotel room?


	11. Chapter 11: A Change in Plans

Ok guys, I'm sorry I didn't post this yesterday like promised, but I got back later than I expected. So I immediately went to bed. I was wrong by the way. Chapter 11 isn't The Party, it's A Change in Plans. The next chapter will be The Party. That title might change but it'll still be the Party scene. As far as music that inspired this chapter, there really wasn't any for this chapter. But I hope you like this chapter. It's been a long time coming. Sorry for my absence. I'm glad to be back and I still ship Clintasha extremely! :) I guess I should say that I don't own the Avengers or anything related to them. If I did, there would be way more Clintasha. :)

Chapter Eleven: A Change in Plans

Clint Barton

"I was wondering when you two lovebirds were going to get back." I felt the tension radiating off of Natasha in waves. She was visibly pissed.

"What the hell are you doing here Stark?" She growled as she recovered and rushed into the room, pulling me behind her. She kicked the door, closing it with a slam. "Were you seen?"

"Maybe?" Tony said, shrugging. Natasha had crossed the room in a matter of seconds, promptly invading Tony's breathing space. "I swear Stark, if you compromise our mission, I will personally end you, and that precious suit of yours won't be able to save you." Tony had a calm front put on through years of practice and arrogance, but I could still see the hints of fear embedded in his irises.

"Now, now," he clucked, shaking his head. "That doesn't sound very American with just a hint of French…too many Russian hints in your voice." Natasha's eyes narrowed and a determined look crossed her face. I knew what was coming, and I gave a loopy smile, doing nothing to try and reign in my infuriated partner. If Stark wanted to mess with the redheaded Russian bull, he had to deal with the consequences when it charged. Natasha kept her green eyes locked with Tony, and Tony became determined to keep his locked there too, which was exactly what Natasha wanted. Without any kind of warning, she kicked Tony in the shin, causing him to curse and yelp in pain. Before he had time to recover, she grabbed his arm and thrust him to the ground with one hand, while pulling the gun she always kept on her with the other. She cocked it and pointed it at Tony's head before the daze even left his eyes. Then he was staring down the barrel of her gun.

"I'm not in the mood Stark. Now what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I think you should really be asking what the fuck _we're_ doing here," Tony corrected. Natasha's eyes widened as she understood what he meant.

"Where are they?" She seethed.

"Oh relax Spidey, they're next door." Tony pulled out a cell phone, no longer worried about the gun in Natasha's hand. That was just like Ton Stark: arrogant until the bitter end. "Yeah, guys, it's safe to come down now. Come on Cap, it's fine. Spidey, tell him it's fine." Tony had the audacity to hold the phone out to Natasha.

"You do realize it's loaded right?" Natasha smiled sarcastically, an almost sadistic look in her eyes.

"Oh come on, you wouldn't really shoot me." He scoffed. She tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. Then without warning, she fired the gun. The door burst open as Steve Rogers stumbled in, followed by an antsy Bruce Banner and Thor.

"Friends!" Thor called out.

"What the heck is going on here?" Steve said breathlessly. He took in the sight of Natasha with her gun and Tony who was in a permanent tense position. She hadn't hit him of course. He could be useful to the mission, which made him valuable for the moment and therefore not target practice. The bullet had missed him by only inches though, enough to scare him completely shitless.

"The usual," I said nonchalantly. Natasha lowered her gun and glared at Tony.

"You were saying Tony," She spat.

"Damn it Natasha, you could've fucking shot me!" He said, finally having the courage to open his eyes and glance up at the redheaded Russian standing before him.

"Then don't piss me off Stark! Now what the hell are you doing here?"

"Maurice sent us," Steve said. Natasha and I both turned our glances to the blonde super soldier.

"Why?" Natasha spoke with a softer tone to Steve, which was normal since she spoke to Tony with a hard edge full of constant irritation, but somehow it still made me jealous. Natasha walked past Tony and came to stand beside me.

"He said you needed an 'in' to Fredrick Laclare's exclusive party." Bruce spoke up. He had an awkward manner about him, but then again, if I turned into a gigantic green monster every time I got pissed, I'd probably be awkward too. I could sense Tony stand up. He loomed behind us and I could tell that he was smiling goofily in that arrogant way that only the billionaire could manage.

"Say hello to your 'in.'" Natasha tensed ever so slightly, not enough for the others to notice, but enough for me to see. Oh I would never hear the end of this one, and neither would Maurice. Natasha hated putting the fate of a mission in someone else. It had taken her a few **years** to get used to having me as partner and to become comfortable having me around on missions. Adding Stark into the mix was just asking for trouble.

"Excuse me?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"Well, you need to get into an exclusive party. I'm a billionaire who can get on the list to any exclusive party I want to."

"Why would an arms dealer like Laclare invite a billionaire superhero to his party?" I asked, finding a flaw in the logic of everyone around. How was this going to work?

"Laclare's not scared of Iron Man," Natasha said. "It's not about Iron Man at all really. It's about reputation and attention. Laclare wouldn't want the attention drawn to him if Tony were to make a big scene about not being admitted to the party. Plus, it would boost his reputation in the arms business if he could say he had a notable superhero like Iron Man at his party and was selling weapons right under his nose."

"Precisely my dear Widow," Tony sneered. I saw her grit her teeth as she tried to keep calm. There was just something about Tony Stark that got under Natasha's skin. He knew exactly how to piss her off and push all her buttons. He'd developed it like a science and completed it like an art. "Aren't you glad you didn't shoot me now?"

"Fuck off Stark," she said without turning around to look at him again. I couldn't help but smile. And then a thought struck me.

"Well we know why Tony's here, but why are the rest of you here?" I asked.

"Fury sent us with Stark for backup." Steve said easily, his blonde hair slicked back perfectly. I snorted.

"It's more likely that you were sent to make sure she doesn't kill Stark before we get into that party. How exactly are we getting into that party?"

"I'd thought you'd never ask," Stark said, a wicked grin on his face. I could tell Natasha was clenching her jaw hard. This was going to be a long night….

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Tony Stark

I'd only been waiting for them for an hour, but when you're sitting alone on a hotel bed in the dark, an hour was a hell of a long time. And I'd planned to make up for it by pissing off Natasha Romanoff every chance I got. I motioned for everyone to follow me farther into the room. There was a small couch against one of the walls with a window above. Natasha hurried past me and closed the windows. "Paranoid much?" I asked.

"We have a cover Stark, and unlike you, we know how to keep it." She said harshly.

"That's not fair. I know how to keep a cover. I just don't like to," I said matter-of-factly.

"Get to the point Tony," Clint said, realizing that Natasha only had so much willpower. If I kept on, it was very likely she would seriously maim me. Still I looked at him, mouth gaping open in shock that he'd interceded on my hell-bent quest to irritate Natasha until her breaking point. I grumbled and sat down on the couch.

"Fine lover boy," I muttered. Natasha's eyes narrowed, farther than I thought even possible.

"Tony, I hate to interrupt your pouting session, but this is a time sensitive situation." Steve interjected.

"Okay, okay, okay," I started, "So you're back stories have officially been edited, well not really your backstory, but Eric Hirst's father's story."

"Go on," Natasha said.

"He worked with my father, not publicly of course. Hirst, it seems, was a very private man. Over the course of their working relationship, Hirst and my father became very good friends, and now, as a favor to one of my father's few good friends, I'm trying to recruit Hirst into working for my company. I heard he was on vacation in Paris, where I happened to be – "

"Who's going to believe that you were just randomly in Paris? You do have to do some work sometime," Banner acknowledged.

"Are you kidding me? When do I ever do work? That's what I keep Pepper around for," I laughed. Everyone frowned, realizing that I had a point. Most of these guys hadn't known me that long, but it was pretty obvious I avoided work whenever possible. It felt too much like a job, and that was so grown up. "Anyway, so I'm in Paris doing anything but work, trying to relax after the amazing feat I accomplished in New York. And when I heard you were here I looked you up and invited you to join me at Laclare's party."

"The party that you aren't invited too," Steve trialed off.

"Cap, I'm Tony Stark. I can get into whatever party I want." I placed a hand in the air and held a finger out, signaling them to wait. This was going to be good! Everyone looked at my hand confused. This brought a gleeful smile to my face. Romanoff had the most pissed off look on her face. 3….2….1…. And right on cue my phone rang. Everyone jumped at the sound. I pulled it out of my jacket and opened it slow and deliberate, placing it on speaker so everyone could hear the pieces of my plan falling into place. "Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist at your service," I emphasized every amazing thing I am, which only garnered eyes rolls from Romanoff and silent annoyance from everyone else. Hey, it was the truth.

"Mr. Stark, this is Angelique Pierre, Mr. Laclare's assistant. I apologize for the hour. I realize that it might be inconvenient for you…."

"Nonsense! Miss Pierre, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Laclare has become aware that you are in Paris, and he would like to extend an invitation to a party he is holding tomorrow evening in honor of his wife, Cassandra. He would consider it an honor if you would attend. Cassandra is an avid fan of your company's work with clean energy." Angelique's heavy French accent dragged along with each word she spoke, but it all sounded like music to my ears.

"Tomorrow? I'll have to have Pepper check my schedule. What time?"

"Of course sir, the party is at seven sharp."

"Tell Laclare that it's his lucky day. I'll be there."

"Excellent. I'll mark you down on the guest list. Mr. Lacalre will be glad to hear this. Will Ms. Potts be joining you tomorrow evening?"

"Unfortunately not, business in New York has detained her. Someone has to run my company." I smirked, which was obvious in my tone. Miss Pierre gave a fake, disenchanted laugh.

"Of course Mr. Stark. Remember, the party is at seven tomorrow evening." She said, before she hung up.

I placed my phone back in my jacket and just waited for one of the stunned Avengers in front of me to say something about my amazing ability to know what my status would get me, because how could it not…I'm Tony freaking Stark. "Impressive Stark," Banner finally said. Romanoff looked completely disgusted by the exchange, which I took as a plus for me.

"You got lucky Stark." She said through gritted teeth as she stood and took a few steps away from the couch.

"Oh come on Romanoff, humor me. You know that had nothing to do with luck. Now, on to more important details…like what you're wearing." Steve blushed. "Oh come on Cap, I meant to the party tomorrow. You can't show up dressed like that. Did you come prepared?" A dagger flew past me, so close to my face that my hair felt the blade go by. I knew that would piss her off.

"Stark, I always come prepared. Now I suggest you go find another hotel to stay at because you're not sleeping in my room." Bruce, Steve, and Thor all stood and headed for the door.

"Of course Lady Natasha." Thor said, carrying his hammer behind him. I stayed put a little while longer. I was about to put the cherry on top of everything.

"What," I said, leaning back on the couch, "that only Barton's job?" Her body stiffened and she didn't even turn to look at me. Clint exhaled an angry breath.

"Tony," he warned, and I knew my work was done. I stood, waving my hands in mock surrender even though it was clear I was the actual winner. I followed the rest of our freak show out the door, leaving the two lovebirds to their night.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Natasha Romanoff

I was the first one up in the morning. I woke with a headache from hell. I'd slept poorly last night. I'd been too busy thinking of all the ways Stark and the rest of the Avengers' appearances last night could've blown our cover. They were in our hotel room. Anyone could've seen them. And anyone could've tipped off Laclare about it. The only way I'd finally been able to drift off to sleep was Clint's words that if someone did tell Laclare about Tony's visit, it could easily be twisted to appear as if Stark was visiting Eric Hirst to try and recruit him, which was part of the backstory now apparently. And to be honest, Clint holding my hand didn't hurt either. And it all came rushing back to me. I'd been so worried about our mission's safety last night that I didn't even have time to think about Clint and I. Ugh, everything was a mess. The sooner this mission was over, the better. I needed to get out of Paris before I made a second fatal flaw in judgment.

I was typing away notes about the additions to our backstory and the edited plan when Clint stirred in bed next to me. I looked over at him. He looked so peaceful when he slept. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen. I wish he could always be like that – at peace, without the pain and melancholy of years in the business weighing on him like it did. As much as I hated to admit it, I cared about Clint, and I knew how seriously he took his job.

I was the first sight he blinked awake to, which I secretly loved, not that I would ever tell Clint that. I just kept typing away on the computer, pretending not to notice him waking up beside me. I didn't bat my eyes at his shirtless chest, even though it was making me slightly uncomfortable on the inside. I kept my rhythm steady and never once looked at him. "You're up early." I acknowledged.

"Not as early as you apparently." He yawned. I withheld a smile and finished up my notes. Then I closed the laptop only to find him staring at me. I wanted to blush, but years of training and being experimented on in the Red Room had given me the ability to control the involuntary function. And blushing right now would show a sign of weakness. I couldn't let my feelings for Clint Barton interfere with our professional relationship. I was already extremely mortified that I'd let memories of our slip the last time we were in Paris cloud my mind enough to blur the lines even further of our relationship. We were partners. Our only relationship was supposed to be a working capacity. However to make a good partnership I've found you have to at least have a basis of friendship and respect. But our relationship was so much more than that. And it was dangerously close to breaking the rules. "You're by far the better note keeper." He smiled. I hated when he smiled, because I loved it and it made me melt inside.

"That's because I actually take notes. I've seen your reports Barton. You're lucky you're a good agent." I kept my voice even, not letting even the slightest inflection enter my voice. Even still, Clint knew I was joking. We'd been around each other long enough that he could easily distinguish my moods and comments even though they usually all came from the same cold, even façade that I kept on. Clint's goofy smile widened.

"What?! You don't think my reports are just the greatest?" He asked with mock hurt that I'd brought the quality of his reports into question. I rolled my eyes and didn't respond, but the glint in my eyes said enough. "So are you ready for tonight?"

"Just like I told Stark last night, I'm always ready for a mission."

"Another party in Paris…." He started, running his hand through his hair. He said it in as even a voice he could, but just like Clint knew me, I knew him, and I caught the uncertain tone through all its masks. I turned and narrowed my eyes at him.

"Another _mission_ in Paris," I corrected. I didn't know how many times I could go through this: having to make it perfectly clear that even though there was something there between us buried deep below all the denial and stubborn ignorance, nothing could happen. As much as he wanted it, and as much as I wanted it, we just couldn't. It would be too dangerous. Partners didn't get involved. It would only cloud our judgments until someone got hurt, and if Clint ever got hurt because of a bad decision on my part, I'd never forgive myself. Clint easily picked up on the sternness in my voice and nodded.

"Whatever you say," He muttered as he rolled out of bed and pulled a gray T-shirt out of his bag, pulling it over his head. "At least I remembered to pack a suit." I let a small smile show. Barton hated dressing up in suits for fancy parties. They just weren't his style. Not that he didn't look good in them - and trust me, he knew he looked good in them. They just made him feel stuffy and confined. I rolled my eyes.

"Barton, you always remember to pack a suit. You've never forgotten to pack anything as long as we've been partners."

"Well with someone like you always on my case, making sure I check and recheck everything, it's kinda hard to forget to pack something." I lowered my head and felt a strand of hair fall in my face. I reached up to brush it away, but Clint's hand beat me to it. We stared at each other for a long time until a knock on our door broke the trance. Clint and I both looked towards the door, guards immediately up. I slid the laptop underneath the bed and immediately became Lena. I leaned back in bed lazily, like I hadn't just been typing notes about our secret mission to steal weapons from Fredrick Laclare and assassinate him. Clint walked slowly to the door, guard up. He was in a position to pretend to be Eric, but could easily slip into badass SHIELD agent if he needed too. He hid a gun in a drawer close by as he sauntered to the door. He was just about to open the door when a voice boomed from the other side.

"Oh come on, I mean I know it's early, but I figured you'd lovebirds would've at least gone to bed at as decent an hour as possible considering you have a party to attend tonight." I leaned back up in bed, groaning as I did. Clint opened the door, pretending to be tired.

"Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?" He stayed in character just in case someone had cameras posted just outside our room. Tony pushed his way into our room and Clint slid the door shut.

"Stark, you've got three seconds to explain why you're in my room again after so short a time." I spat through gritted teeth. Tony didn't even act fazed by my anger. He just looked around at both of us.

"What are you guys doing? We have a party to get ready for?"

"And we're supposed to take punctuality tips from you?" Clint looked at Tony in disbelief. Tony did have a flawless reputation for being the most unprofessional professional in the business. He hated working and had built a name for himself for being late and pushy and avoidant of meetings and parties.

"Now, now, don't get testy on me Robin Hood or Legalos or whichever famous arrow wielding warrior you're trying to be these days…" I gritted my teeth harder. Clint smiled at the obvious joke, but it just made my blood boil more. I picked up a book that I kept behind my pillow, near my gun and chunked it at him.

"Ok, ok, don't make jokes about Spidey's boyfriend," Tony noted, rubbing his arm where the book had hit him.

"You're lucky I didn't aim for your head." I warned. "Now what are you doing here Stark!"

"I'm just paying my dear friends Lena and Eric a visit before our party tonight. By the way, you need to start getting ready. I don't know how long it takes you to become your little seductive enchantress-Jessica Rabbit self, but if you're anything like most women, I assume this'll be an all-day thing." I'd already thrown my book and the only thing I had at my disposal was my gun. I pulled it and readied it for fire, never removing it from where it was aimed at Tony's head. Tony tried to act unafraid, but his body stiffened.

"Now, I think you should rethink that last comment." Clint had a loopy smile on his face at my victory. He laughed quietly as he turned away.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

- Clint Barton

Tony and I sat in the lobby of the hotel, both dressed suavely in black suits. We were just waiting on Natasha. Every minute that ticked by left Tony making more annoyed sounds and gestures. He began pacing around. The man really had no attention span. I'd seen Nat get dressed a lot faster many times before. I half thought Nat was taking her sweet time just to get back at Stark for pissing her off. Tony finally sat back down beside me again and leaned over. "Man you sure you wanna keep her around? I don't know how you can stand this all the time." I wasn't going to reply to that, because I knew that Tony wasn't referring to Lena and Eric, but to Nat and I. But even if I was going to answer him, I wouldn't have had time too because Natasha had finally decided to make her appearance. Opting to use the staircase instead of the elevator in true dramatic fashion, she glided down the stairs like she was walking on air. And she was gorgeous. She was always beautiful to me, but that didn't change the fact that every time I saw her, I just stopped and gawked at her. She wore a long white dress that wrapped around all her curves and trailed along the floor. Her hair was up and she wore modest jewelry. Stark nodded in approval and then withdrew his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He stepped away to make a call while I walked up to grab Lena's arm as she came to the bottom of the stairs.

"Well it took you long enough." Stark said as he came back, inserting his phone back into his jacket.

"Who did you just call?" Lena asked, tilting her head to the side in earnest curiosity, but I knew that Nat also wanted to know. She didn't know Stark as well as she knew me and she hated that. Stark was also unpredictable and she hated risking the mission's sanctity with that. I held her arm tighter.

"Relax, I just called the limo up."

"Modesty really isn't your thing is it Tony?" I could tell Natasha hated using Tony rather than Stark, but Lena would always use Tony and would never speak to him in the awful tone that Natasha always reserved for Tony.

"Oh come on Lena. Just pretend you're a Princess for the day." I knew Nat would get him back for that Princess comment later. But she kept it professional, just smiling politely. Tony gestured for us to lead the way. I pulled Nat along with me and took the time to whisper, "You look beautiful." She smiled and blushed, but I could see in her eyes she was worried, because she couldn't tell if that comment had come from Eric or Clint. And then I realized that I didn't know either.


End file.
